


Time

by Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 07:11:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12648681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction/pseuds/Green_Eyed_Dragon_Fanfiction
Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. In her past life, she and Steve Rogers were soulmates until her untimely death at the age of 16. Now that she's been reincarnated and Steve has woken up in 2012, her world gets turned on its head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for New York occurs and Reader must fight for her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, violence, death, guns

[Originally posted by heartsnmagic](https://tmblr.co/ZdT_cl20YnLn5)

**2012, New York City**

You’d thought about moving many times. New York was nice, but way expensive. You owned a small coffee shop in The Village. The property had been in your family for generations. It was stable enough now, after five years of hard work, that you weren’t worried about it falling apart if you weren’t physically there to look after it. You’d looked at some places a little farther north, and even a couple places on the west coast near Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco. A change of scenery was something you needed after living in the Big City your whole life. Now, you wished you had.

Debris rained down around you as you ran away from Midtown Manhattan. To where, you weren’t entirely sure. Away from the murderous aliens on speeding hovercar contraptions was a good first step. It was the end of the world, you were sure. Unlike everyone else, who’d gawked dumbly at the sky when a giant beam of light shot up from Stark Tower and ripped a whole in reality, you had run. You’d seen enough horror and sci-fi films to know when shit was about to hit the fan. Some people might have once you thought silly for putting stock into the fantasy world of comic books and movies, but you argued that you practically _did_ live in one with men like Tony Stark and Captain America around. Hell, the Captain even had trading cards.

You weren’t sure how much of a head start you got, but it didn’t feel like much of one. Within two minutes of the portal opening in the sky, the aliens had come pouring through the streets. People ducked behind cars and upturned patio tables in an attempt to survive the barrage of energy blasts coming from the aliens’ guns. Your lungs burned as you ran through the streets of Greenwich Village.

[Originally posted by mylovelyinspiration](https://tmblr.co/Zq8jRvK_Vuz9)

You ducked into your coffee shop, narrowly avoiding the blast of an alien’s gun. A few patrons were cowering under the tables, bags clutched in their hands in front of them like shields.

“May! Get everyone into the back,” you yelled, locking the door behind you. You were thankful you’d sprung for nice, stylish, sturdy metal doors. As much as you missed the beautiful old oak ones, these would hold much better against energy blasts… or so you’d hoped. May and Dean’s heads popped up from behind the marble counter, eyes wide with fear.

“Boss, what’s happen-” May began.

“Now, May! Dean, you start closing the shutters. It’ll be harder for them to get in if there’re metal bars in the way,” you barked. They didn’t move. “Now!” you growled. “Unless you don’t like living anymore!”

That seemed to return the feeling to their legs. May hopped up, urging the customers to follow her into the back room, which led to a sturdy cellar that might hold out if they started dropping heavier artillery. Thank god for World War Two architecture. Dean reluctantly left his spot behind the counter but ran speedily towards the front of the shop and began closing the metal shutters on the two large front windows.

“Turn the tables on their sides once you’re done- they’ll give us some cover and turn into obstacles for those ugly bastards,” you directed him. You pushed past petrified customers and ran into the back room. You silently thanked your Papi for being way too paranoid and a little bit of a hick as you opened the large safe hidden behind some of your store’s merchandise. You punched in the last number and wrenched the door open, eyes scanning the guns inside.

Before he’d died, he’d shown you how to load and shoot all five of the guns. He’d kept a small army’s worth of ammunition inside the safe with them, and as much anxiety as that had caused you once upon a time, you were grateful for it now. You loaded the Glock 26 Gen 3 and placed it on top of the safe as you loaded one of the shotguns- a Remington 870. A hand on your shoulder startled you and you swiveled, ready to fight for your life.

May flinched, arms coming up to defend herself. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Boss,” she said, eyes wide, dark curly hair messier than usual, obscuring her pretty face.

“It’s alright, May. You know how to shoot a gun?” you asked, picking up the Glock.

“No, ma’am,” she asked, paling.

“Alright, it’s pretty simple. Hold it with both hands, keep your arms straight, aim, pull the trigger,” you said, handing her the gun carefully. “That Glock has no safety. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” you said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she stared at you, horrified.

“Dean, get in here!” you yelled through the doorway. He appeared a moment later, cheeks flushed from the exertion of turning the cafe on its head.

“Do you know how to shoot a gun?” you asked him, picking up the Remington.

“My dad took me shooting once when I was ten,” he asked, looking from you to the shotgun in confusion.

“Alright, do you remember what you used?”

“A handgun, I think?” he said, doubtful.

You sighed. “Alright. This isn’t anything like a handgun except in that it also succeeds at killing things with metal and gunpowder. You see this?“ You asked, pointing to the lower tube. He nodded. “This is the magazine. I have four shots loaded,” A terrifying loud explosion rattled the floor beneath you. May and Dean’s eyes widened in fear, heads swiveling for the source of the noise. “Focus!” you barked. Their gazes snapped back to you. “Four shots loaded. There are eight more on the butt of the gun here,” you said, pointing to the shells strapped to the side. “Keep count of your shots. When you run out or get a minute, you can reload here,” you explained, flipping the gun over to show where one could load it. You popped another shell into the magazine, demonstrating for him so he would hopefully remember. “Five shots, now. Here.” you said, handing it to him. He stared at you blankly, not taking the gun, face pale. You groaned, shoulders sagging. 

“I know, Dean. Shit’s fucked six ways to Sunday, but you need to focus. I’m terrified, too. But if you think those alien bastards are going to take me down without a fight, you’re mistaken,” you said, shoving the gun to his chest. “Fight. For. Your. Life,” you said forcefully, staring him down. He gulped and nodded, taking the gun from you. “Good man. Brace the gun to your right shoulder. Stare down it to aim. Pull the pump back to load a shell into the chamber. Push it back forward into place to finish loading it. Pull the trigger to fire. Rinse and repeat,” you said, turning back to the safe to finish loading the last of the guns. You loaded the Colt Python revolver for yourself, jamming it in the back of your pant’s waistband, internally cringing at the breach of gun safety. You loaded the other Glock, placing it on top of the safe. At last, all that was left was the Ruger 10/22  Semi-automatic. You threw its strap over your head and onto your shoulder, gun on your back, and handed May and Dean boxes of ammunition.

“I pray to whoever might be listening that they don’t make it through those doors, but if they do, we have to be as ready as possible,” You said, grabbing ammunition for your three guns. May and Dean nodded. You could see it on their faces; They were determined but afraid. You internally cursed at the travesty of gun safety as your jammed the Glock into the front of your waistband. Desperate times and all that. You peeked into the store. Whatever had caused the explosion hadn’t seemed to affect your store. You took up a defensive position behind the counter. “May, you’re going to be shooting whatever comes through the windows or door, with me. If it gets closer, let Dean take care of it. The shotgun is better at close range- tiny death pellets’ll rain hell down upon ‘em from that thing. You just focus on trying to make sure they don’t make it that far. Keep your head down as much as possible. Try not to pop up in the same spot- they’ll expect it. Got that?” you said, glancing at the two of them next to you, sitting beside each other. They nodded, unconsciously reaching for each other’s hands. Huh. You wondered when that had happened. “Don’t get dead, guys,” you said, standing to rest your arms on the counter to help steady your aim. “If we survive this we’re going out to a fancy restaurant for dinner- I’m buying,” you said winking down at them. They both gave you a brave smile. You turned your attention back to the door, trying to ignore the fear in the back of your mind. You wondered if you had been a soldier in one of your past lives- it might explain why you were able to stay calm even though every nerve in your body was screaming at you to run. But you had a shop full of customers downstairs. People with friends, family, who had no hope of defending themselves. You refused to stand by and let yourself and others be killed.

* * *

[Originally posted by trident701](https://tmblr.co/ZshOVn1nWRpe7)

The aliens that had been clambering over their dead companions suddenly dropped, lifeless. You stared at them in disbelief, waiting for them to move again. You hadn’t shot them. After a minute, when they didn’t so much as twitch, you rose up from behind the counter slowly. You raised your revolver and fired a round straight into the chest of the one closest to you that had been alive a moment ago.

Not so much as an eyelid flutter or gasp of breath. No hiss of pain.

Next to you, Dean was sobbing, clutching May’s lifeless body to his chest, gun forgotten at his side. His hand grasped hers, his lips placing tender kisses to her umber knuckles and forehead, begging her to wake up. His fingers tangled into her messy mop of curly black hair. Her dark, glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

You sunk down to the floor next to them, adrenaline leaving your body now that there wasn’t an immediate threat in front of you. “She’s gone, Dean,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

“No, no! She can’t be- She-” he broke off, sobbing as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. It was like he didn’t see that a sizeable chunk of her chest was missing, vaporized by a shot with one of the alien’s guns. “She was my soul mate,” he whispered in a choked voice.

“Oh hell, Dean… I had no idea. You never told me,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“We only just found out recently… asked to see each other’s soul brand… We both thought it might be each other, y’know?” He smiled faintly at the thought. It slid off his face as he returned the present. “Sure enough, our initials were on each other’s brand. When I saw D.A.H. there on her skin… I was the happiest man on earth. She saw her own initials and-” he sobbed and tears dripped down onto May’s face. “-I’ll never forget her smile. She-” he broke off, unable to stop the sobs as they wracked his body. You wrapped your arms around them both, ignoring the acrid scent of burning flesh coming from May’s body and rubbed circles into his back. There were no words of comfort you could give him. Losing one’s soulmate was nearly worse than dying. And he had watched it happen in front of him. He’d been unable to protect he and she’d died helping defend him. The only comfort they had was that they might meet again in their next lives. But that wouldn’t be very comforting to him. They were both young, fresh out of high school, working at your cafe to save money for college. He would have to go through the rest of his life without her.

You held him as he cried out everything he had, clutching his dead soul mate to his chest. Something in the corner caught your eye. The TV had turned back on, broadcasts returning to inform everyone of the situation. Apparently a group called The Avengers had closed the portal _and_ stopped a nuke from destroying the city. Allegedly, as soon as the portal closed, all of the aliens had dropped dead. If you hadn’t seen it happen with your own two eyes, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. Whatever The Avengers did stopped them, though. You felt your breathing stop as a choppy, grainy video of a man and woman fighting in the streets of New York came on. She wore a suit made entirely of black leather and was expertly killing aliens with one of their own weapons.

The man was who truly caught your attention, though. Even though the outfit had changed a bit, you recognized him immediately. You’d heard rumors he was back, found preserved like some sort of human popsicle in a huge iceberg near Greenland or something. You hadn’t dared to believe. But there he was, fighting aliens on New York streets. Your heart ached, one of your past lives recognizing him as the love of its life. You sighed, melancholy. You glanced down at your wrist. In your mind’s eye, you could see the initials _S.G.R_ written there beneath the scrap of fabric you kept it hidden with.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a trip to DC two years after the battle on New York... aka the worst possible time to visit DC, and are inadvertently reunited with a ghost from your past life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, violence, blood/injuries

[Originally posted by usauncovered](https://tmblr.co/Zy1bBg2AxrVSH)

**Two Years Later. Washington DC**

One week after May’s funeral, you’d begun making arrangements to move out of the country. You planned on returning eventually, but you needed to get out of the U.S. for a while. For nearly two years you’d been getting all of your affairs in order, including petitioning for Romanian citizenship. You had close family in Romania, but after the attack on New York security had been heightened so it had taken longer than you had expected for it to be approved.

It wasn’t all bad, though. It gave you plenty of time to train Dean for taking over the cafe. He was a bright kid, and the loss of May didn’t break him like losing a soulmate did some. Sure, he’d mourned. He _still_ mourned and probably always would. But instead of despairing, he used his pain as a force for good in the cafe, his passion for the place he felt closest to May showing in the way he worked hard every day, bringing a smile to all of the customers’ faces. He wore a ribbon on his wrist where is soul brand used to be; It was the same color of her skin- a lovely milk chocolate. It stuck out against his pale skin and he got asked about it a lot. “Just to remind me of my soul mate,” was all he would say in response while smiling. Dean was a brilliant young man and probably the only person you’d ever consider handing over your family’s property to, even temporarily as it was.

You sighed, thoughts returning to the present, and glanced up at the hazy D.C. sky as you walked. It was the first day of your three days in D.C., a trip focused on finalizing your citizenship with the U.S.-Romanian embassy. However, that didn’t stop you from sightseeing. Working at a coffee shop as you did meant that your sleep schedule was abnormal. You were up before the sun had even risen, hotel room pitch black, sans a few lights blinking in the gloom. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you crawled out of bed. You brushed your teeth quickly and put on some comfortable clothes before you wrangled your hair into something presentable and grabbed your jacket, phone, and room keycard. Slipping on your shoes, you ran through a mental checklist to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything. Satisfied, you slipped out of your door. You rode the nicely-kept elevator down to the lobby. A tired-looking attendant wished you a nice day before she returned to staring at her computer’s screen. You nodded your head, mumbled a “you too” back, and stepped out of the lobby.

The air was a little chilly; Spring had only just recently started, so the days were still cold in the morning. You hugged your jacket tighter to yourself and pulled out your phone, opening google maps and punching in the Lincoln Memorial. It popped up with a route a second later. Like your hotel had advertised, you were pretty close to it and the other monuments surrounding the Tidal Basin. You hoped that the ungodly hour would mean fewer tourists. You set off in the direction your GPS told you, watching the world wake up as you walked.

By the time you reached the parks, the sun was just coming up. As you’d hoped, it was early enough that there were very few tourists around. A handful of them milled around here and there and a few locals were about, jogging or hurriedly crossing the park on the way to their jobs.

You were walking along the Reflecting Pool, meditating on the Washington Monument, when you heard someone running behind you. You scooted a little closer to the pool, making more room for them.

“On your left,” the person said. You felt your heart skip a beat in your chest as your head whipped around to look at the source of the voice.

“Stevie?” you said incredulously. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. Sure enough, it was none other than Steve Rogers.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. He came to a sudden stop just a step ahead of you and turned around to look at you curiously. He looked you up and down in confusion while you balked. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to meet him. Weren’t the Avengers in New York?

“Sorry, do I know you?” he asked, eyes searching your face.

You grimaced. “No, sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else,” you said, turning away from him. You set a brisk pace as you made your way back towards your hotel.

You hadn’t made it very far before a hand grasped your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You turned to look at him. He looked down at his hand as though he was as confused by it as you were. “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me…” he said, trailing off, eyes searching your face with even more scrutiny than before. It felt like you were being x-rayed by those piercing blue eyes. He released your arm, hand dropping to his side.

“It’s alright,” you said, giving him a tight smile before you turned away to keep walking. It hurt so badly. A part deep down inside of you told you to turn around and throw yourself at him and never let go. You squashed that voice the best you could, staring determinedly forward. You were so focused on your thoughts you didn’t notice him jog up beside you.

“Why did you call me Stevie?” he asked, startling you out of your reverie. You froze, looking over at him.

“Excuse me?” you asked him dumbly.

He smiled apologetically. “Sorry I keep bothering you. It’s just- I was wondering. Why did you call me Stevie? No one calls me that anymore,” he said, subtly shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. It wasn’t you that noticed the nervous habit, but your previous life. Steve always had been bad at talking to girls.

Your swore internally. Would he believe a lie you told him? Would he believe the truth? You plastered a falsely apologetic smile on your face as you answered. “Sorry, dude. Like I said, I mistook you for someone else,” you said, once more turning away from him, and walked away. Why did it get harder each time?

A pause, then, “You’re lying.”

Your blood froze in your veins. His tone was accusatory; matter-of-fact. You stood, still as a statue, as he walked up to you again.

“You recognized my voice. It surprised you. You recognized me before you even saw my face. Then you called me ‘Stevie,’ which I haven’t been called since before I went into the ice. And even then, only two people called me that,” he said, giving you a hard look.

 _Ah, shit. I’m fucked,_ you thought to yourself. You tried to come up with another reason for your reaction. You opened your mouth to explain it away when he cut you off.

“Don’t try to lie to me again. I know some good liars and I’ve gotten pretty good at reading them. You’re not a good liar,” he said, smirking slightly at your dumbfounded expression.

“I would… prefer not to…” _do this_ , you finished in your head.

[Originally posted by softwintersoldier](https://tmblr.co/ZekVpn2O13oUL)

“… Not to lie? Good, we’re on the same page, then,” he said, smiling broadly. He had taken your meaning wrong on purpose. You rolled your eyes and cocked your hip. Your posture exuded sass that said you were unimpressed by his antics.

It was a mistake.

Recognition flickered across his face.

“Rosie?” he whispered, stunned.

You felt the blood drain from your face, posture going from bold to petrified in an instant.

“You are- were- Rose, right?” he asked, breathless.

“I have to go,” you said. Your voice sounded so far away; It was odd. You turned on your heel and practically ran away from Steve.

“Rosie, wait!” he yelled, running after you.

“That’s not my name!” you growled, moving faster.

“But it was! Please, wait!” he pleaded, reaching for your hand. You snatched it away from him, glaring at him.

“You’re mistaken,” you said, venom lacing your words.

“I thought we agreed not to lie,” he said, eyes pleading with you. You ignored his guilt-inducing looks, focusing on the path in front of you as you walked. By now, the park was getting busier. He had to dodge people as he walked so that he could keep up with you.

You ignored him, plowing through tourists, trying to get to the street as fast as you could. People around you were starting to take notice of Steve. He was famous, after all. He was one of the legendary Avengers and, even before that, a World War Two hero. Before long, so many people had him surrounded that he had no choice but to stop, losing sight of you in the crowd. Polite to a fault sometimes, your Stevie. It was one of the things you had loved about him.

Finally, you made it to the street. You flagged down a taxi, a lifetime in New York making it easy. You opened the rear passenger-side door and were about to close it when a hand grabbed the top of it, holding it open.

Steve.

You looked at him, heart breaking at the hopeful look on his face. “I’m not her, Stevie,” you said sadly.

“But you were,” he said resolutely. “And I’d like to get to know you, if you’d let me,” he said earnestly, causing your heart to ache.

You sighed, glancing at the taxi driver who looked at you impatiently. The meter was already running.

“You’ll regret this,” you said, staring at him sadly.

“Never,” he said, beaming down at you. You couldn’t help the small smile that graced your lips when you looked at him. You rattled off the numbers to your phone number, and he jotted them down in a tiny notebook he was carrying in his back pocket. You smiled at that. Some things never changed.

“My name is (Y/N),” you said. Without waiting for a response, you slammed the door to the cab. Steve looked up from his notebook, startled, as the cab swerved expertly into the DC traffic. You were out of sight in moments, so you didn’t see the way he smiled after you, watching as the yellow taxi disappeared into the DC streets, or how he flipped to an earlier page of his notebook. You didn’t see the two tiny intricate drawings of two women in its pages, one titled Peggy and the other titled Rosie.

* * *

When your phone rang the next day, you didn’t recognize the number. Thinking it was the embassy, you picked it up quickly.

“Hello? This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you said professionally.

“(Y/N), thank God you gave me the right number,” said the voice on the other line.

“Steve?” you asked, confused.

“I don’t have a lot of time. Listen, you need to get out of DC as soon as possible. Get somewhere safe. I’m not quite sure what it is yet, but something bad’s happening. DC isn’t safe right now,” he said quickly.

You almost never heard Steve sounding this shaken. It worried you. “I can’t go yet, Steve. I have important business here,” you said. It had taken you two years to get this far. Going back now would undo months of work.

“You don’t understand, there’s-” his voice cut off.

“Steve?” you asked, unsure. You looked at your phone. The call had ended. You tried calling back but received a recording telling you there was an error. A few more tries yielded the same result. You groaned, throwing your phone onto your bed. Barely a day back into your life and Steve was already causing you trouble. This was one of the reasons why you didn’t want to get close to him. You put each other in danger. You’d read enough comic books to know what happened to the important people in a superhero’s life, and being important to a superhero just gave them one more weakness. You thought about whether you should leave or not. It would probably be a good idea to listen to him, but you needed to stay put. Without knowing the details, you might walk directly into the danger you were trying to avoid. No, better to stay put and gather as much information as possible before you decided what to do.

You flicked on the TV, curious to see if the mystery danger would make it onto the news. You turned to a news station and were shocked to see Steve’s face plastered all over the screen. The reporter was outside of the Triskelion, SHIELD’s huge base on the Potomac, and claimed that Captain America was now a fugitive of the state and SHIELD. They said he had a part in assassinating SHIELD Director Nick Fury alongside a redhead you recognized as Black Widow. They urged the public to keep an eye out for these “fugitives” and send any helpful tips into the police. You turned the TV off and looked out the window, suddenly fearful for Steve’s life. You knew he didn’t do it, but the rest of the country probably wouldn’t be as convinced of his innocence as you.

“Oh, Stevie. What did you get yourself into?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The take down of SHIELD leaves you and Steve reeling. You make a hard decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, violence, blood/injuries

[Originally posted by theworldisworthagif](https://tmblr.co/ZlD-Ij2CGlX3Y)

You awoke early the next morning. Today was your meeting with the ambassador. You hastily dressed in the nicest set of clothes you’d brought with you, slipping on stylish flats in lieu of heels. With the city in the state of chaos that it was, you didn’t feel like getting caught in a sticky situation in pumps. You made your way to the ambassador’s office. Luckily for you, it was within walking distance. You’d been able to save yourself some cab money and managed to arrive exactly on time.

You were directed into a small but nicely decorated office and sat down in one of the comfortable black leather armchairs. The woman at the desk across from you wasted no time. “Alright, let’s get this over with. SHIELD is unveiling something big today and I need to be there to witness it,” said the ambassador’s agent. She rifled through papers on her desk until she found the one with your petition on it.

“I see, Miss (Y/L/N). I regret that something this minor wasn’t dealt with at… lower levels. These people you’d be staying with are family on your…?”

“Mother’s side, ma’am,” you said quickly, not wanting to give the woman more reason to be short with you.

“Yes, the Ardeleans. According to this sheet, they’re a good family from around Bucharest. Your aunt married into their family, no?” she asked, eyeing you over the paper.

“That’s correct, ma’am,” you said, nodding.

“And your business in my country?”

“A mix of sightseeing, visiting family, and working for them for a few years before I return to the states,” you said earnestly.

She assessed you coolly over the rims of her glasses before she nodded her head almost imperceptibly. “Alright, Miss (Y/L/N). Consider your visa approved. I’m sorry for the delay this entire issue has caused you. I regret even further that it brought you all the way out to DC… and to me. No offense, but this was a waste of my time,” she said, smiling slightly at you.

You smiled kindly back, too happy that you’d finally been approved to be offended. “No offense taken, ma’am,” you said, standing and shaking her hand. You turned to leave her office but paused at the door. You turned to look over your shoulder at her. “Be careful out there today… and thanks again,” you said, giving her one last smile. She rolled her eyes at you good-naturedly and made a show of shooing you off, but happily wished you a good day anyway.

You were halfway to your hotel when you first saw them. People had stopped on the sidewalk to gawk and point. You followed the direction they were looking in and gasped when you saw it. There, next to where you knew the Triskelion to be, were three huge helicarriers. Even from here, you could see that they were outfitted with huge guns.

This must be what Steve had been talking about. You knew after one glance, though, that no building you would ever be allowed in could keep you safe from those things.

They rose slowly into the sky, harbingers of doom preparing for annihilation. For the second time in two years, you ignored all of your senses that told you to run away and, instead, decided to face the danger head-on. Or, more accurately, run straight for it.

You hailed a taxi and directed him to head towards the Potomac and the huge airships in the sky. Like most people, the taxi driver didn’t seem concerned that there were huge death ships floating in the sky above his head. That concerned you more than anything else. Was this the new normal for this day and age? You didn’t like it.

As you got closer to the Potomac, the streets got busier and busier. Before long you asked him to let you out, throwing a few twenties at him as you hopped out of the back seat and started running.

You hadn’t made it more than ten feet away from the taxi when you heard cannonfire and explosions above you. You looked up into the sky, shielding your eyes from the sun with your hand, and felt your jaw drop. The huge helicarriers had begun firing on each other.

[Originally posted by ancientabysm](https://tmblr.co/ZS7sFm1cp98Hu)

“Steve,” you breathed, heart beating so hard you thought it might beat out of your chest. There was no doubt in your mind Steve was somehow a part of this, even if it wasn’t in the way most of society thought he was. You hoped against hopes that he wasn’t stupid enough to be on one of those helicarriers, but you knew he almost definitely was. Whoever was in charge of those things wouldn’t make them fire on each other unless something had gone horribly wrong, and being in the middle of horribly wrong situations was Steve’s specialty.

You watched in horror as the helicarriers blew each other to bits. One managed to stay in the air a little longer than the others, but eventually it, too, fell into the Potomac. You didn’t realize you were running to the river shore until you were already there. Across the river, the Triskelion was on fire. It looked like one of the helicarriers had taken a huge chunk out of it on the way down. You ran along the shore, trying to get a better view of the destruction from there. You hoped against hope there’d be a sign- any sign at all- that Steve was okay. You burst through a clump of bushes, cursing as thorns scratched your legs through your pants. Movement across the small riverside clearing caught your eye. Your eyes were drawn to something shiny. Metal. You realized it was, in fact, a person, and the metal thing you saw was the person’s arm.

“Hey, you!” you yelled at the person’s back. They- _no, he,_ you realized it was a man- froze for a moment before he suddenly sprinted away from you, not looking back. You began to run after him, but a noise near the riverbank caught your attention.

“Steve?!” you said, alarmed. You ran over to the figure lying on the bank. It _was_ Steve, and he looked mostly dead. He coughed up river water, rolling over on his side as he spat and gagged. “Stevie, god, you look awful. We need to get you to a hospital,” you said, hands hovering over him, unsure of what to do.

He finally seemed to finish clearing his lungs. He rolled back onto his back, still gasping for air. He almost didn’t seem to notice your presence, he was too busy searching the area around himself.

“Where is he?” he asked, voice hoarse, and attempted to sit up.

“Who?” you asked, alarmed at his behavior. You placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

He finally seemed to notice your presence. “(Y/N)?” he asked, even more surprised.

“Yeah, Stevie. It’s me. We need to get you to a doctor. You look like you went through a meat grinder,” you said, brushing bloody hair out of his face. You noticed that his uniform was soaked in blood. “Have you been shot?!” you asked in alarm.

“Yeah, couple times. Where did he go?” He asked, unwilling to be sidetracked from his line of questioning.

“Who, Stevie?” you asked, voice filled with concern.

You turned to stare at you, face unreadable, obviously thinking through something before he answered. “The man who saved me,” he said finally.

“He ran away as soon as I yelled at him. Why? Did he have something to do with all of this?” you asked, suddenly worried you’d just earned a place on the shit list of a very dangerous individual.

Steve’s face twisted in grief. “Yes and no. It’s just important that I find him,” he said, trying to stand.

“Jesus, Steve. You’re no in condition to do anything but rest right now. I’m calling an ambulance,” you said, holding him down as best you could with one hand while you dug your phone out of your pocket with the other.

“No, Rosie, wait-” he sputtered, alarmed. Before you knew what was happening, he’s pulled you down into a very wet, cold hug. “You can’t call an ambulance for me. Not right now. I’m still public enemy #1 in a lot of people’s eyes right now. I’d start an angry mob,” he explained, breath ghosting against your ear.

You sat up slowly, moving out of his grasp with worrisome ease. “Then what do we do?” you asked, worried about Steve’s worsening condition.

“Gimme your phone. Please,” he said, holding a hand out expectantly. You sighed, unlocking it and placing it into his outstretched hand. He dialed a number you couldn’t see. After two rings the person on the other end picked up. “I’m alive. Barely. I’m on the other end of the Potomac. I could use some help. A civilian is with me, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t accidentally shoot her thinking she’s a hostile. I know everything’s gone to hell, but sooner rather than later would be nice,” he grunted, grimacing with pain as his fingers probed his gunshot wounds. After a response from the other end he thanked whoever he’d been talking to and pressed the end call button.

“Hey, Rosie,” he said quietly. You were too concerned about him to correct him.

“Yeah, Stevie?” you asked, leaning so you could get a better look at his face.

“Remember how we used to sit when we were kids?” he asked, mind eighty years in the past.

“Yeah, I do,” you said. And you did. Rosie and Steve used to sit on the couch in her parents’ house together. She’d sit on one end of the couch, reading and he’d use her lap as a pillow, reclining as he doodled in a notebook. Occasionally Bucky would join them, sitting on the other end of the couch from her. Steve would put his scrawny legs over Bucky’s, and Bucky would rest whatever magazine or comic he was reading on top of them. The three of you would sit like that for hours until one of your got bored or it was time for Steve and Bucky to go home. You felt your eyes watering at the memory. It had been a simple but happy time for Rose.

Taking his not-subtle-request, you moved to sit perpendicular to him and lifted his head, placing it gently in your lap. His hair was went and cold, but his face was warm. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered when he wrapped his arms around your waist, nearly curling around you. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, slipping into a habit that wasn’t yours.

“Don’t go to sleep,” you murmured.

You felt more than you heard his hummed response.

“I mean it,” you chastised.

“Yeah, yeah. Got it,” he said, opening one bleary blue eye to look up at you.

* * *

A couple of agents that Steve trusted arrived a bit later. If they were shocked at the sight of the Captain curled up around a random woman, they didn’t show it. Together they managed to carry him off to an inconspicuous car without drawing too much attention. Most of the onlookers were too engrossed in the destruction across the river to see the drama unfolding right in front of them. You insisted that you go with Steve, not trusting that they’d keep him safe. They looked to Steve for confirmation. He gave them a faint nod and off the car sped, away from the Potomac.

An hour later you were in the waiting room of a hospital. As soon as you saw the Black Widow, you’d finally trusted that Steve was safe- at least, safer than he’d be in your hands. Still, you didn’t want to leave before you got more news on his condition.

A tall man in a black hoodie and leather jacket sat down in the empty chair next to you. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. It was odd that he chose to sit next to you; Most of the chairs in the waiting room were empty. You spotted the telltale bulge of a concealed gun on his hip. You felt yourself tense up. There weren’t a lot of people around, and he was close enough that he could kill you before people could stop him.

“Relax, girly, I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, gruff voice low. You looked at him, then. He picked up a magazine and pretended to be interested in it while he talked. “We appreciate you finding the Captain for us. He may be a super soldier, but the tough bastard’s not invincible. I think he forgets that sometimes,” he said, glancing over at you.

You noticed that, behind his sunglasses, one of his eyes was scarred a ghastly white.

[Originally posted by robotsandramblings](https://tmblr.co/Z5pU-u1zhqEo3)

_Holy shit, I’m talking to Nick Fury,_ you thought to yourself. _He’s **the** spy. Why the hell is he here in disguise and talking to me of all people. _ You coached your thoughts into something resembling coherence before you spoke. _  
_

“Steve knows he’s not invincible, sir. That’s what makes him a hero. He knows he could be killed doing what he does, but he does it anyway because it’s the right thing to do. The serum may have made him super, but he was always a hero,” you argued, giving the intimidating man stubbornest look you could muster. Inside, you were sweating.

He looked at you out of the corner of his good eye, giving you a slight approving smile. “You’re sure talking like you know him,” he said, smirking at how your face fell at the accusation. “I don’t mean anything by that, of course. What you did in your past life with Steve is entirely between you two,” you balked at that last statement. He let out a single huff of a laugh before continuing. “I’m just here to warn you,” he said, staring at you seriously now. “You’re not going to be safe if you stay near him. I know leaving your soul mate behind can-”

“I know, sir,” you said, cutting him off. He leaned back in his chair slightly, assessing you.

“You know?” he asked, eyebrow peaking up over the rim of his sunglasses in disbelief.

“I’m leaving the United States for the foreseeable future. It’s been a plan of mine for a long time. I won’t put myself or Steve in danger by staying here. The world can’t lose Captain America,” you said, smiling faintly.

Fury looked you up and down as if seeing you for the first time. “I don’t know what I expected from Steve’s soulmate, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’d be as selfless as him. Damn stubborn, too”

His words twisted the dagger in your heart, and you nearly winced from the pain. He noticed your reaction, but just then a nurse came up to talk to you, saving you from his torrent of questions.

“Are you Miss (Y/L/N)?” she asked, looking at you past her clipboard. You nodded an affirmation and she smiled. Weight you didn’t even know was weighing on your shoulders suddenly lifted and you breathed out a sigh of relief. “His condition is stable and he’s going to make a full recovery. He’s healing remarkably fast, too. He’ll likely be out within the week,” she said, smiling down at you.

You smiled back, almost giddy with relief. “That’s fantastic news,” you said.

“He’s asking that you come and visit him. He’s doing so well we’re allowing visitors one at a time,” she said, frowning slightly at the way your face twisted from happiness to regret and sorrow.

“Sorry, no. I need to be going now,” you said, standing.

“But he was quite insistent-” she said, but you’d picked up your things and were already walking towards the door.

“Sorry, no,” you said again, pulling your jacket on as you walked. The nurse looked confused, but walked back into the long white hallway in the direction you assumed Steve’s room was in.

To your surprise, Fury joined you outside as you waited for the taxi the valet had called for you. You let out an audible groan.

“Well sorry, princess. Just had a few more questions,” he said mockingly.

“Of course you do. Couldn’t you just find the answers with your infamous intelligence network?” you asked scathingly.

“Well seeing as SHIELD was just destroyed from the inside out, I’m a little out of the loop these days,” he said, the edge in his voice getting harder. His good eye narrowed dangerously behind his sunglasses.

“Fine, fine. Shoot,” you said, groaning internally at your word choice.

“Where are you going?” he asked as he leaned up against the hospital’s cement wall.

“Will you tell Steve?” you asked, eyeing him.

“No,” he said, voice flat.

“Can I trust you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“In general, no. In this case? Yes,” he said, staring at you evenly.

You rolled your eyes. “Romania, around Bucharest,” you told him. Even without the resources he once had, it wouldn’t be too hard to find out where you’d gone. At least his way he might be able to throw Steve off your scent. “Got family there,” you explained, fiddling with the buttons on your jacket.

He nodded, studying you closely.

“You have another question,” you stated.

“Are you Steve’s soul mate?” he asked, as though he was asking what the weather was like today.

“Excuse me?” you asked, taken aback. You hadn’t expected him to be so direct about it.

“Are you Steve’s soul mate?” he repeated, good eye boring into yours.

Just then your taxi arrived, honking impatiently at you.

“Another day, then, Mr. Fury?” you asked rhetorically before you started walking towards the car. You got a few steps, then stopped. “Keep him safe, alright?” you asked, eyes pleading.

“Agent Romanoff and I will keep an eye on him,” he assured you. Somehow, having two of the best spies in the world keep an eye on your most important person in the world both comforted and frightened you. You nodded a goodbye to him before you clambered into the taxi.

[Originally posted by ofallingstar](https://tmblr.co/Zs26mu2HmaH7g)

You felt his gaze from one of the hospital rooms. You looked up through the taxi’s window as it pulled away, eyes instantly locking onto his. His face was unreadable as he watched your taxi leave the hospital parking lot. Just before the taxi turned the corner and drove out of sight and blocked your view to his window, you swore you saw him turn and head farther into the room, face set in determination.

You hoped Fury could keep his promise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've finally moved to Bucharest, and have developed feelings for a certain mysterious man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language
> 
> Romanian will be in “Quotes and Italics.”

[Originally posted by theseromaniansarecrazy](https://tmblr.co/ZdaB2v2KcVUNP)

**One year later. Bucharest, Romania**

Soon after the fall of SHIELD you traveled to Romania, where your aunt and uncle lived. It was a bit of a leap but you needed to get as far away from everything as you could. You’d left the cafe to Dean. He accepted the task with reverent devotion, saying it was the place he felt closest to May. He was a smart kid and you knew the place would thrive with him in charge. He was the only other person who loved the place as much as you did, and he was a brilliant, kind young man.

You ended up working with your aunt, getting her business off of the ground. It had been tricky, learning what did and didn’t work in a different country when it came to running a business. You were grateful you’d learned Romanian when you were young; your parents spoke it at home. When you weren’t busy helping her, you worked part time at a market in the heart of the city, selling fruits and vegetables your uncle grew in his expansive gardens. Most of the time you read a book or occasionally chatted with other shopkeepers to keep yourself entertained during lulls of activity.

 _“What are you reading today?”_ came a deep voice from the front of your stall. You felt your heart flutter in your chest as you looked up at the customer. Sure enough, it was one of your regulars. If you were being honest with yourself, he was your favorite regular. He ordered the same thing every day. You already had it ready, hidden behind the main display.

 _“A murder mystery,”_ you said brightly, closing your book as you stood, clutching it to your chest. You knew you should give him the bag, but you didn’t want your time with him to end too quickly.

He smiled slightly at that. You noticed how the light didn’t quite reach his eyes. You always wondered what had happened to him to give him eyes like that. They were such a beautiful steel blue it seemed a shame that they weren’t happier. He was downright handsome, but he hid his looks beneath layers of clothing. His hair was long and overgrown, peeking out from under a baseball cap, and he wore a thick leather jacket and a long sleeved dark grey shirt, even in this heat. He wore a single leather glove on his left hand. A pair of loose jeans couldn’t quite hide the bulge of the muscular thighs beneath them. If you could see through your stand, you know you’d see a pair of well-loved shoes. Even his face was hidden beneath an attractive layer of scruff.

 _“Have you figured out who the killer is yet?”_ he asked lightheartedly, pretending to peruse the fruits and vegetables on your stand. He was apparently stalling, too. You both knew he’d get two plums.

 _“Not yet, but all of my money’s on the baker. He’s the victim’s best friend and is jealous of his success,”_ you said, watching him closely. He never gave anything about himself away during his conversations, and you were too shy to ask anything directly.

 _“It’s always the lover or the wife,”_ he said, smirking. You swore your heart tried to beat out of your chest at the sight. He glanced up at you. _“You can read English? Your other books were always in Romanian,”_ he said, nodding his head towards the book in your hands.

 _He pays enough attention to me that he knows what I read._ “I can speak it, too,” you said, nodding, and bit back a laugh at the shock on his face. “I read books in Romanian to improve my skills in speaking it.”

“That’s uncommon here,” he said in perfect English. It was his turn to smile at the guileless look on your face.

“Yeah- I’m actually from the United States,” you said, glancing away shyly, heat rising in your cheeks. You’d learned to hide your accent early on; Some people really hated Americans here and weren’t afraid to show their prejudice.

“You too?” he asked, forgetting to pretend to browse your stand, too distracted by the new information to feign merely polite interest in you. His eyes were locked onto yours, searching them.

“You’re from the U.S., too?” you asked, shocked. Most people were leaving Romania, not choosing to migrate there. It was downright shocking you’d met another American living there by chance.

It seemed like he thought he’d said too much. The light that had returned during your conversation suddenly vanished again, dulling his beautiful eyes. “Yeah,” he said shortly. _“I better get going. I’ll take two plums,”_ he said, voice colder than you’d heard it in a long time.

Your heart plummeted to somewhere around your feet, pulse racing. What did you say wrong? You shouldn’t have asked him about himself. He never told you anything about himself or his past, and there must have been a reason for that. This is where your nosy prodding got you.

 _“Here, the two best plums of today’s harvest,”_ you said, handing him the paper bag from behind the counter. He handed you the right amount of leus from his pocket and turned to walk away.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” you asked, frantic, accidentally slipping back into English.

He froze and you stopped breathing. Something was telling you to stop him. You didn’t know why, but you couldn’t fathom never seeing him again.

Without turning around he nodded almost imperceptibly and you sighed in relief. You watched him weave through the crowd until he disappeared around a corner. The way he walked back each day was always different than the last.

Yes, your mystery man was a riddle indeed. Today was the first time you’d ever gotten new information about him. He kept everything close to him; You hadn’t even learned his name yet. To be fair, he knew little about you, too. Only that you sold fruits and vegetables, liked reading, and now that you spoke English and were from the States. You found yourself wondering where he was from in the States and why he was suddenly in Romania. Your brain came up with wilder and wilder ideas. Everything from witness protection to being a super secret spy-assassin, to just simply wanting to get away from the States. You even thought it might be to escape an evil ex, but that thought angered you so much you didn’t spend much time dwelling on it. You sighed as you read your book. Your imagination was ridiculous. You’d read three whole pages without taking in a single word. There was something that bothered you about him, most of all how he looked like- _  
_

_“He’s cute. Bit scruffy, though. You should snatch him up while you still can,”_ said Maren, the older woman who worked the stall next to yours. She sold freshly canned jams, jellies, and flavored honeys.

 _“He barely even talks to me, Maren. What makes you think I have a chance?”_ you asked, lip quirking at her antics. She was nosy but she genuinely cared about people.

 _“You never notice because you’re always nose-deep in a book, but he only ever visits your stall. Doesn’t even glance at the others,”_ she says, smiling knowingly at you.

You rolled your eyes, unwilling to get your hopes up. _“Well that’s a shame. I think I just scared him off for good,”_ you said, gesturing vaguely to the empty front of your stall with your book in hand.

She scoffed at you, rolling her eyes. _“He’ll be back. Just because you’re blind to how much he likes you doesn’t mean everyone is,”_ she said, fussing over the arrangement of her jam jars.

You sobered, staring blankly at the empty space in front of your cart. “You’re wrong,” you whispered so quietly she didn’t hear you.

Yes, the thing that bothered you most was how he looked just like Bucky. And after hearing him speak English, you realized that he sounded like him, too. His voice was deeper than your past life remembered. For some reason, you could only conjure images of the three of you in your youth. You think the oldest memory you had of them was when you were all around thirteen. Their voices had just begun dropping, Steve taking a little longer than Bucky to begin losing his squeaky voice. However, their voices still cracked occasionally, reverting at random to their prepubescent timbre.

Your interaction with your mystery man had you thinking about Steve again. Nick Fury had done a good job of keeping Steve off of your trail, apparently. As evidenced by newspapers you’d read and news reports you watched, it seemed as though he was being kept busy with missions given to him by the U.S. government.

You’d kept your old phone but kept it turned off at all times, not wanting it to be tracked by Steve or any of his associates. You briefly considered turning it on to call and ask Steve about Bucky and the apparent gap in your memories, but decided against it. That wasn’t your past, and you wouldn’t put yourself or Steve in danger by asking a couple of stupid questions that would allow Steve to come running to you. No, it was best to keep a low profile and leave Steve alone before you hurt him any more than you already had.

Your thoughts returned to the mystery man. Surely you were seeing what you wanted to see in him: your past life’s dead best friend, alive.

It was possible that there was another person who looked almost exactly like him. There were nearly seven billion people in the world now.

_But he looked and sounded just like him. The steel blue eyes and crooked smile and-_

You groaned in frustration, kicking the bottom on your stall. No, no. You were just hoping for something impossible. Bucky was dead. Steve saw him fall hundreds of feet into a canyon. No amount of hopeful wishing could bring him back from that.

 _Steve came back from worse,_ said a small voice in the back of your head.

But Steve was a special case. He was an enhanced human. He was able to survive a plane crash into an iceberg followed by seventy years as a frozen Capsicle.

Bucky was a normal man. He wasn’t enhanced, and normal men didn’t survive hundred-foot falls from speeding trains over frozen cliff faces.

You tried to push thoughts of Bucky, Steve, and your past life out of your mind, throwing yourself into the murder-filled world of your book instead.

* * *

[Originally posted by caps-bucky](https://tmblr.co/Z7lbSr2BSbgI0)

Even though he said he would return, you were still surprised to see him show up at your stall the next day. He already had money for the plums in his hand. He gave you a brusque hello before asking for two plums which you handed him, a tight smile on your face. He didn’t meet your gaze as he handed you the money. He gave a cold “thank you” and you stared after him as he walked away.

You thought not seeing him again would be the worst thing that you could think of, but this… this was torture.

* * *

Your interactions continued on like that for two weeks before you’d had enough. You asked your uncle to watch the stall for a day and sat on the bench across the street, waiting for him to show up.

You never knew exactly when he would show up. His schedule changed daily. Still, you waited, hugging your jacket to yourself. You thought your uncle might notice you but he was too busily chatting with Maren and Jan (the man who ran the jewelry stall on the other side of your produce stand) to even look in your direction. It was a quarter past four when you considered calling it quits. He almost never showed up after three.

A man sat down on the bench beside you. Your eyes were drawn to him and you were shocked to see it was _him_. Your mystery customer.

 _“You’re not working the stall today,”_ he said, staring at Maren, Jan, and your uncle chattering happily behind their stalls. _“Why?”_ he asked, turning his head slightly to give you a sideways look. His tone made you realize he thought of your actions as suspicious.

You breathed out a sigh of relief, trying to ignore the way your heart was fluttering. He was talking to you again.

 _“Because Maren was right,”_ you said without thinking.

 _“Who’s Maren?”_ he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your brain finally caught up with what your mouth said. _Oh shit_. Your heart was beating even faster now. _“She’s the woman who runs the jam and honey stand beside mine,”_ you said, brain working a hundred miles a minute to figure out a way to talk yourself out of what was likely to be his next question.

 _“And what was she right about?”_ he asked curiously.

 _You like me and I like you, too, even though I don’t know anything about you but it’s probably because you look like someone I knew in a past life._ No, not that. _Oh, and he was my soul mate’s best friend._ Goddamnit. Anything besides that. _Also, you’re really hot._ Fuck.

Your brain came up with nothing. You didn’t want to lie to him, but you couldn’t tell him the truth, either.

“Ah- uh- um. I should go. I totally didn’t think this through,” you said, standing abruptly.

Before you could take a step, he grabbed your left hand, holding you in place. You hadn’t even heard him stand. You glanced down to where his un-gloved hand held yours. His hand was rough and warm. You decided right then you liked it very much.

“What’s your name?” he asked, sounding almost desperate.

You turned to look at him, and the look in his eyes made something warm and fuzzy take residence in your chest. How could you even think about leaving this man alone on this bench? His steel blue eyes looked more alive than you’d ever seen them. They pleaded for you to stay.

“(Y/N),” you said, eyes trapped by his gaze.

He smiled at you and you felt your heart soar. “(Y/N), would you like to go get dinner with me?” he asked nervously. It was so unlike the Bucky your past self knew to be nervous when talking to a woman you almost didn’t see the resemblance for a second. It was nice. Maybe you could see this man as someone else after all.

“I will, on one condition,” you said, nearly laughing as his face lit up then quickly twisted into a cautious stare at your words.

He seemed to decide you weren’t about to run off, so he let your hand go. You mourned its loss, frowning slightly. “What condition is that?” he asked, voiced filled with trepidation as he looked down at you. With the way he spoke it was almost like you were the one towering over him.

“Answer a question for me,” you said, smiling disarmingly at him.

“And that question would be?” he asked, growing more wary by the second.

“What’s your name?” you asked, watching his reaction with interest. His face fell in earnest now. It was a moment before he put on a bracing half smile.

“You can call me Grant,” he said, smile suddenly forced.

“I can call you Grant… or your name is Grant?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He looked away, unconsciously clutching his left arm. “I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“It’s alright. I trust you,” you said, gaze unwavering.

He looked up at you, incredulous. “You what?” he asked, not daring to believe his ears.

You cocked your head, studying him closely. “I trust you,” you said slowly, realizing you believed your words as you said them. You couldn’t explain why, but you trusted him. He felt like home; he felt right. You thought it might be Rosie talking, mistaking him for Bucky, but you realized it was both of you who felt that way.

He was staring at you as though you were some sort of mythical beast or a loaded gun. It looked so out of place on his usually severe features that you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of your mouth. The sound snapped him out of his inner turmoil, and he smiled at the sound. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world. It made your heart beat hard inside of your chest and you felt your cheeks heat under his stare.

You hid your smile behind your fingers, your eyes twinkling with mirth, “I believe you were asking me out to dinner?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get your illusive mystery man to agree to a date. You learn more and more about him and you can't seem to stay away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language
> 
> Romanian in “quotes and italics”

[Originally posted by rohgers](https://tmblr.co/Z5pd8h2DE1No6)

You tapped the screen on your phone where it laid on the table. It lit up and the time flashed accusingly up at you.

5:49 pm.

Grant was twenty-nine minutes late.

You sighed, waving away the waiter for the third time in a row. When Grant asked you out to dinner yesterday, he only realized after that he didn’t know any good restaurants to take you to. You’d chuckled at that- he’d blushed, of all things- and chose the quaint and fairly-priced Italian place a few blocks from the marketplace. You weren’t sure where he lived, but he was close enough to walk to the market daily, so this place should have been within reasonable distance for him.

By now, your waiter’s pity had given way to annoyance.

You didn’t care. Somehow, you knew he’d show up.

Finally, at 5:57, he walked into the restaurant, eyes searching for you in the crowd.

You propped your elbow up on the table and gave him a coy wave as he spotted you. He seemed to visibly relax a bit as he walked over to your table, scanning the restaurant and the people in it as he walked. As he got closer your smile widened. One look at him told you at least part of why he was so late.

He was wearing nicer clothing than you’d ever seen him in. He wore a light blue button-up shirt that perfectly matched his eyes. Instead of ratty jeans, he was wearing a nice pair of dark navy pants held up by a black leather belt. He’d swapped his well-worn shoes for a nice pair of dark black leather boots that reminded you of the Doc Martens Dean always wore around the coffee shop. He even replaced his signature black hat for a grey knit beanie. However, his leather glove was still on his left hand.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I’m surprised you’re still-” he rambled, contrite, as he pulled out his chair.

“You didn’t have anything to wear, did you?” you asked, grinning broadly at him.

He looked embarrassed as he took his seat, immediately picking up the menu. “Ah… no. I did not,” he said, staring determinedly at the list of foods.

“You look good,” you said, smirking at the flush that crept up his cheeks.

He peeked at you from behind his menu, mouth quirked up at the corner. “Thank you. You look good, too,” he said with such sincerity you were sure your heart had melted into goo.

 _“Are you ready to order?”_ said the waiter with barely controlled annoyance.

You glanced at Grant, who nodded imperceptibly. _“Yes, that’d be lovely,”_ you said, throwing the waiter a dazzling smile. He didn’t seem impressed. _“I’ll have the four-cheese ravioli with bacon. Oh, and a Coke, if you would,”_ you said without even opening your menu. You’d had plenty of time to memorize your order (Which was nice. There were few things more embarrassing than messing up giving the waiter your order). 

The waiter turned to Grant, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

 _“I’ll have the signature lasagna, and a water is fine for me, thanks,”_ he said, folding his menu and handing it to the waiter after he finished jotting down the order. You handed yours over, too, and the waiter twitched off to the kitchen to put your order in.

“I’m guessing the clothing wasn’t all that held you up?” you asked, returning your full attention to him now that the waiter was gone.

He glanced away and scratched his cheek, facial hair audibly scratching against his fingers. You bit your lip, trying to stay focused. “Yeah, I was worried about-” he cut off abruptly and took a sip of water, avoiding your eyes.

“About?” you prompted.

“About, ah, being followed?” he said, wincing as he said it.

“Oh, that. I thought that might be the case. You had to take a specific route here, right?” you asked, fighting back a smile at his confused face.

“You… know I take different routes to avoid being followed?” he asked, clearly off balance. You seemed to have a habit of throwing this man off of his game.

You smiled softly, taking a sip of water before you responded. You hoped it would cool your head. It didn’t. “You think I don’t notice you walk away from the market a different direction every day? Or how you never show up at the same time two days in a row?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You… never said anything. Never asked. Didn’t think you’d noticed,” he said. He sounded almost… vulnerable? He realized the shock on his face was there because you paid enough attention to notice his habits.

“Would you have given me an answer if I’d asked about it? A true answer?” you asked, staring him down.

He let out a short laugh, guiltily smiling his apology. “No, probably not.”

“I know. It’s why I never ask. I don’t want to put you on the spot like that,” you said, smiling warmly at him.

His breath caught in his throat. “You’re too kind,” he said quietly.

“You can pay back my kindness by taking me on a second date,” you said, smiling devilishly.

He let out a single chuckle at that, smiling. “We’re not even done with the first date and you’re already angling for a second?” he asked, amused.

“So this _is_ a date, then? I can definitely consider this a date?” you asked jovially, smiling as he floundered a bit, caught off guard yet again.

Finally, he seemed to find some resolve just as you were about to grant him some mercy and wave it off as a joke. “Yes, this is a date,” he said, blue eyes locked to yours.

Once again, his sincerity made you smile.

Your meal came hastily. It seemed as though the wait staff wanted you out as soon as possible. Still, you both took your time as you ate, enjoying each other’s company. You talked about why you were in Romania, tactfully avoiding your relationship with Captain America. It was complicated at best and torrid at worst. He seemed surprised that you lived in New York. He asked where you lived as though he knew the city personally, but you knew better than to press him for more information before he was ready to give it. You talked about your work with your aunt and uncle and the coffee shop you owned back in The Village.

Before the both of you knew it, you’d finished your meals. You paid your checks; Grant had fussed about you paying for your half. “It’s not the nineteen hundreds, Grant. I can pay for my own meal. I’m a big girl,” you’d told him. The wait staff were making sly eyes at you and your table. You got the hint.  “We should probably skedaddle. The wait staff are glaring daggers at us,” you said, nodding your head slightly to the workers in your immediate area.

He didn’t need to look; He’d probably already noticed. “Yeah, they’ve been doing that since I got here,” he said, standing up. You made to stand up, too, but he raised a hand in a motion for you to wait. Curious, you settled back into the chair. He walked around the table and pulled it out for you, offering his hand once it was far enough back for you to stand up.

“Why thank you,” you said, once again admiring his manners and calloused hand. It was just as warm and rough as you remembered, but now it was distinctly cleaner. He definitely cleaned up nice, though you almost missed the scruffy hobo look on him.

“My pleasure,” he said as he watched you stand. “You really do look lovely,” he said, giving you one sweeping glance up and down.

“Flatterer,” you said, snorting.

Something flashed across his face so quickly you didn’t see it, and it was quickly replaced by a polite smile. “If I may?” he asked, holding out his right arm for you. You took it, hooking your hand around the crook of his arm.

“Oh, you may,” you said, winking up at him. He gulped and looked determinedly forward as he led you to the doors. You let him lead you through the doors and away from the restaurant’s entrance. It was a little darker here, and not as many people were within visual range.

“Why do you trust me?” he asked suddenly. “You barely know me but you’re letting me lead you away from the safety of lights and people?” he asked, looking down at you curiously.

“Well, are you planning on hurting me?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Well, no, but-” he began.

“That’s good enough for me,” you said, stopping. He realized you stopped a half step later and turned to look at you.

“I don’t-”

“Something just tells me I can trust you,” you said, shrugging at him. “I’ve learned to trust gut instincts.” He looked at you helplessly, as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do. “And I know you’re not going to walk me home, so I won’t ask. I think your reasoning is something along the lines of ‘it’ll put us both in danger?’“ you said, chuckling at how he ducked his head guiltily.

“Yeah, it’s better this way, I think,” he said, unwilling to meet your eyes.

You smiled softly at him. You knew he was, in his own way, trying his best to be courteous and keep you safe the only ways he knew how. From what, exactly, you hoped to find out one day. “I had a nice time tonight,” you said.

He looked at you finally, smile slowly creeping back onto his face. “Yeah, me too,” he said. He took your hand and ghosted a kiss over your knuckles. Very classy. “Until next time?” he asked, looking up at you through his long lashes.

“Yes, definitely,” you said, slightly breathless at the sight of him. His shy, tentative smile made your heart ache.

Yes, this man was nothing like Bucky except in his looks and that he was a gentleman. If it was Bucky he would have been loud, confident, and boisterous all night. He likely would have asked if he could kiss you. If you’d agreed, he would have literally swept you off of your feet.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, giving you one last look before he turned, walking off in the opposite direction you were headed. You watched him walk for a moment. He got halfway down the block before he turned and glanced at you. He did a double take when he realized you were still watching him. He gave you a shy wave and smile which you returned with a laugh before he turned the corner into an alley. You sighed, content, and started the walk back towards your place.

* * *

For the next few months, you and Grant fell into something resembling a pattern. You’d go on dates once or twice a week (rarely at the same place or time). You’d make plans while he was at your produce stall, whispering conspiratorially over your fruits and veggies. Maren always gave you a knowing look after he left. She was sharp as a honed blade, that one. Even Jan seemed to catch on eventually, and he normally didn’t care much for the affairs of other people. You saw him throwing Grant dirty looks occasionally. When you asked him about it one day he told you he thought Grant was a good for nothing and shady. You’d laughed at that, causing Jan’s scowl to deepen.

Something bothered you, though. It’d been months since you’d begun dating, but he still hadn’t made a move on you. You weren’t normally one for self doubt, but it was beginning to weigh heavily on your mind. He’d remained the perfect gentleman, never pushing you for anything more.

Three months into your relationship, he’d made his first real move. He’d taken you back to the first restaurant you’d visited together. Thankfully the wait staff didn’t seem to remember you and treated you cordially. Whenever you were around him your insecurities disappeared; his smile assuaged all of your doubts and his voice soothed your worn nerves.

The date passed by all too quickly and before you knew it you were leaving, your hand in his. He stopped a block away from the restaurant, tugging your arm gently to get you to stop, too. You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Grant?” you asked, concerned.

“May I kiss you?” he asked abruptly. Before you could answer, he was continuing. “I’ve wanted to for a while now, but- I wasn’t sure if-” you cut off his words by placing your lips gently over his. You swore the time stopped. The entire world fell away and only the two of you remained. He seemed to freeze up for a moment before he kissed you back eagerly, right arm snaking around your waist. You cupped his cheek in your right hand before you gently trailed your fingertips down the left side of his neck. He shivered against your touch, sighing into the kiss, and you took that as a cue to continue, gently brushing past his neck to his shoulder, then his arm. He was so absorbed in the kiss, he didn’t notice at first the way your touch froze as you felt the hard, cold metal beneath his thin shirt. You pulled back from the kiss, brows knit together in confusion. Was this why he was careful never to touch you with his left hand or arm? It hadn’t escaped your notice that he only ever used his right arm to interact with you. He was concerned about how you’d react if you found out he had a prosthetic?

It seemed to take a moment for him to realize why you’d broken the kiss. His gaze went from blissful to confused and a little bit hurt quickly, but when he spotted your hand on his left arm, his eyes widened with pure unbridled panic and fear.

“I have to go,” he said, turning on the spot and running. The sudden absence of his warm embrace left you cold. Your brain took a second to catch up, he’d moved so fast.

“Grant, wait!” you said, running after him. Damn, he was fast. He turned a corner and you followed a moment later, panting. You looked down the alley. You’d only been a second or two behind him, but there was no sight of him, and the alley was a straight shot to the adjoining street. You ran down it, checking behind reeking dumpsters and into shady alcoves. He couldn’t have made it the entire way down the alley in the time you lost site of him; no human was that fast.

To your surprise, you felt tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. You’d finally made progress. He’d finally felt confident enough to make a move. Why did he run? Why didn’t he trust you? A prosthetic wasn’t a big deal. It didn’t matter to you.

Why did he leave? You loved him. It wasn’t fair. Confusion and hurt plagued your thoughts as tears began to slip down your cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grant makes amends.  
> Bucky has flashbacks about Rosie and Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language
> 
> Romanian in “quotes and italics”

[Originally posted by butteryplanet](https://tmblr.co/ZZGNTl2BNgg4c)

A month passed before he spoke to you again. He’d been avoiding you, not that it was very difficult. You only really ever saw him if he wanted to be seen. You’d cried a lot the first night, wandering the streets until it got too dark for you to feel comfortable being out alone. You eventually made it back to your house, ignoring your aunt and uncle’s concerned questions, and headed straight to your room. You’d replayed the scene over and over again, trying to understand. It never got any clearer. You needed his explanation, if he even had one.

Then, exactly a month later, he walked up to your stall, a yellow rose bouquet clutched in his hands. You recognized it as one from the stall halfway down the block. The woman there made lovely bouquets. You stood, eyeing him evenly, and gave the roses a suspicious glare for good measure. You wouldn’t speak first.

He had trouble making eye contact, glancing from you to anything in the area, and back to you again. You gestured expectantly to the bouquet and gave him a look that clearly said _Well, go on then._

“These are for you,” he said, handing you the bouquet. “Yellow, for apology,” he supplied as you eyed them. “That is to say- I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

[Originally posted by anthony-samaniego](https://tmblr.co/ZyG2Ux2LkipOh)

You kept your face unreadable as you took them slowly, raising them to your nose, and inhaled deeply. They smelled wonderful. He squirmed as he watched, unsure of what you were thinking.

“Why did you run?” you asked, gazing at him over the roses.

He didn’t relax at all as he answered. “I was afraid,” he admitted, looking away as he spoke.

“That I wouldn’t like you because you have a prosthetic?” you asked quietly, hurt that he would think so little of you.

“I- What?” he asked, completely caught off guard by your question.

“You ran… because you were scared that I wouldn’t like you because you have a prosthetic? Isn’t that it?” you asked, suddenly unsure. Maybe you were wrong.

He looked dumbstruck. “I mean, technically, I guess that’s correct?” His mind seemed to be going a thousand different directions at once if his confused tone was anything to go by.

“You _guess_ it’s correct?” you asked, looking at him incredulously.

“Well, that’s definitely part of it,” he sighed. “But definitely a small part of it,” he amended after seeing the hurt look on your face.

“You mean there’s more?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He glanced around, suddenly skittish. “Yes, but… can we not talk about this here? At least, not with this many people around?” he asked, throwing covert glances at the people around the market as they browsed the stalls. You gave him a hard stare and he almost seemed to wither under your eyes. “Please?” he asked, nearly begging.

“It’s been a month, Grant,” you hissed, anger radiating off of you. “You avoided me for a whole month, and now I’m just supposed to agree to everything you ask? Without explanation”

He flinched visibly at your words. Something within in you broke, and your lingering anger turned into hurt. “I thought you might have died or something else awful happened to you. I thought I would never see you again,” you said softly, tears forming in your eyes.

His head whipped up, eyes searching yours. “I know- I’m so sorry. I- I didn’t want to risk facing you. I thought- I thought you might turn me away. That you wouldn’t like me anymore; that you wouldn’t want to see me again,” he said, stumbling over his words as he spoke quickly, trying to explain himself to you.

“You’re a fool,” you said as tears began to fall.

His face twisted in sorrow, eyes falling to the ground. You realized immediately he’d taken your meaning wrong. “I understand,” he said, voice hoarse, as he turned to leave.

You practically threw the bouquet on your chair as you ran around your stall. You grabbed his left hand and tugged hard, forcing him to stop.

He turned to look at you, eyes watery. “(Y/N)?” he asked, confused.

“You’re a fool to think I wouldn’t like you over something so trivial,” you said as you placed your free hand behind his head and pulled him down into a kiss. He wrapped an arm tentatively around your waist and when he seemed to realize this wasn’t some kind of cruel trick, he deepened this kiss, puling you flush against him. You let go of his other hand so that you could run your fingers through his hair. He cupped your face with his metal glove-covered hand. You were distractedly shocked by how intricately it moved. If you didn’t know it was metal already, you’d have been none the wiser.

 _“I didn’t understand a word of that, but it was beautiful! Such a torrid drama!”_ came a voice from behind you. He glanced over your shoulder as you whirled, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. Maren was clapping happily behind her stall, enraptured by the show you and Grant had inadvertently put on. Even Jan was watching in interest, though he seemed to be coming out of his daze.

 _“Maren,”_ you said, sighing.

 _“Oh! Oops! Don’t mind me, dearies. Continue what you were doing!”_ she said, pointedly turning away to tend to her stall. Jan scoffed and turned away, too. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he had been enjoying it as much a Maren had.

You sighed, smiling, and turned back to Grant. Some of the tension between you had broken, but so, too had the moment been ruined.

“Please have more faith in me,” you said, reaching up to tuck a piece of his long hair back behind his ear.

“Alright, sweetheart. I promise I will,” he said. He reached up and held your hand in place, then leaned his head into your palm. You smiled up at him and ran your thumb over his cheek.

You both stayed like that for a moment before your face hardened. “And don’t you dare leave like that again,” you said, glaring a challenge at him.

He had the decency to look guilty, but it was slightly ruined by the smile that danced on his lips. “Never,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss you again. “Are we good?” he asked, looking at you hopefully.

“Not even close,” you said, smiling evilly at him.

He winced, before he let out a gruff laugh. “Yeah, I suppose that’s fair,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ll spend as much time as I need to to prove how sorry I am, though. I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it.” he said earnestly.

“I have a few ideas,” you said, smiling wickedly.

He looked slightly panicked for a moment, but something behind you caught his eye. “You have customers,” he said. You couldn’t tell if he was relieved or not.

“I better see you tomorrow,” you said, placing one last quick kiss on his lips before you turned to walk back to your stall.

“You will,” he said with a certainty that helped to soothe your uneasiness.

By the time you’d turned around again to help your customer, he’d vanished into the crowd.

* * *

**Bucky’s POV**

[Originally posted by allthisherostuff](https://tmblr.co/ZqX21h26YOMuy)

He watched as you glanced up and down the street for him before returning to your customer. You didn’t see him, which wasn’t too surprising. He was very good at hiding.

His stomach twisted itself into a knot. You really had no idea. It wasn’t like The Winter Soldier wasn’t all over the news for a few years. But for some reason you had no idea.

Today confirmed another thing for him, too.

You were Rosie. He’d suspected it for months, ever since he’d first met you. However, you didn’t seem to have any idea he was Bucky. There were times he thought you might have recognized him, saw a flash of recognition in your eyes, but you seemed to talk yourself out of that train of thought.

To be fair, Bucky Barnes was dead according to most of the world. Steve hadn’t let the world know that he was alive. You had no reason to think it was the real Bucky. No, somehow you’d convinced yourself Grant and Bucky were two separate people.

He thought it was better that way. He wasn’t Bucky anymore, not really. Bucky had died when he fell off that train in those cold, lonely mountains. He may have gotten most of his memories back over the last year and half, but he wasn’t the man he once was. That carefree ladies’ man was long gone. He liked to think a lot of his core personality was still the same, deep down. Hydra had tried to wipe it, but failed. He still recognized Steve-

Steve.

What Bucky was doing with you was so wrong. You were Steve’s girl. Always had been, always would be. That was how soul mates worked.

But he couldn’t help himself. He’d spend years with you and Steve, never telling either of you, his best friends, his biggest secret.

He gazed down at his metal arm, and in his mind’s eye, he could see Rosie’s initials there on his flesh wrist.

No, he could never tell Steve that his soul mate was Bucky’s, too. He searched for a long time and came across quite a few girls who had the same initials as Rose’s, but none of them ever made him feel like you did.

When Steve had first described Rose to him, he had been happy for his friend. Like Steve, Rosie was in and out of the hospital often and had quite a few health complications. Bucky was only five, but he was happy his best friend had found someone who wouldn’t judge him for his health problems. According to Steve, she only saw him for the boy he was on the inside. He excitedly told Bucky that her initials matched the ones on his soul brand: R.A.F. Bucky’s pulse quickened at that. The boys hadn’t talked about their soul brand before, both wanting to keep it secret until they were older.

They were the same letters that were on Bucky’s wrist.

The first time Steve introduced you two at the age of six, Bucky knew you were his soul mate. Even with Rosie’s slightly sickly frame and subdued personality (likely due to how many medications she was on), she was the prettiest thing he ever saw. As he got to know her, he realized just how much of an amazing person you were. He fell more in love with you every day, digging himself deeper into a hole.

At the age of eight, she revealed the initials of her soul brand. The letters S.G.R. glared up from her wrist at Bucky as she and Steve excitedly showed him the matching pair. Young Bucky had put on a brave smile for his friends before quickly excusing himself. He ran home and didn’t see either of them for a week.

Eventually, he realized that, as much as it hurt to be around you and Steve, it was worse without either of you in his life. Even young Bucky knew how important the both of you were to him.

As you all grew up, he learned to enjoy being around you as a friend. On his bad days he still sometimes felt like punching Steve, though. He might have if he wasn’t so worried that Steve might not survive the hit.

When she was thirteen, her condition worsened. By age fourteen she stayed in the hospital year round. Steve was a mess and Bucky was left trying to keep his friend from falling apart as you slowly died in front of him, medicine of the time unable to help you.

[Originally posted by thisistheextension](https://tmblr.co/Z5Qf2u27QKHp5)

In 1936, at the age of sixteen, Rosie passed away in the hospital in her sleep. The loss nearly broke Bucky and Steve. Only their friendship and love for you kept them going. Steve always said that Bucky was the only one who could hope to understand. He never knew how right he was.

And now you were back, just as kind, sassy, confident, and intelligent as Rosie was. This time, though, the frailty that plagued you in your last life seemed to hold no purchase over you in this life. He wasn’t sure if it was because of modern medicine or just if you’d had a change of luck, and he didn’t particularly care.

But he was lying to you. Every day, lying to you. He should be helping Steve find you. He lied about being the Winter Soldier and about being Bucky. He wanted to be someone else. He wished it fervently. Someone who wasn’t tainted by your shared pasts. Someone who could be your everything because there was one thing he’d never lie about, and that was how much he loved you. He was a selfish man, but he couldn’t bear to tell you the truth for fear you’d never love him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Grant take the next step in your relationship.
> 
> Meanwhile, events in a different part of the world put Bucky in danger and make you realize a startling truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, fluff, SMUT 18+ (unprotected sex)
> 
> Romanian in "quotes and italics"

[Originally posted by lovelynemesis](https://tmblr.co/ZVOuzi2O-LpFl)

**Your POV**

It was one month after your fight ended, and the first time he’d decided to go to your house. Your aunt and uncle were out on a business trip for the weekend, so you had the place to yourself.

“Wow,” he said, glancing out at your uncle’s orchard-garden.

“It’s my uncle’s pride and joy,” you said, moving to stand at the window beside him. After seeing it every day, you forgot how impressive it really was. There were lush fruit trees and rows of vegetables as far as the eye could see.

“Not just that, this place is pretty nice,” he said, glancing around the room. “I feel distinctly out of place.”

You smiled at him, following his gaze. You aunt and uncle didn’t dress or act like it, but they were actually pretty well off. Unlike some people who would be content with that, though, they wanted to do something with their lives. Your uncle not only tended to the orchard but also managed the family’s finances. Your aunt, in part thanks to you, was now running her very own small, successful business. The entire house was nicely furnished, a pleasant mix of traditional and modern architecture. The only theme was color; most things were white, black, or a deep red.

You looked at Grant, who was wearing his usual scruffy outfit and bit back a laugh. “Yeah, you are,” you said, laughing in earnest at the look of betrayal on his face.

“You’re not supposed to agree, you know,” he said, pulling you into his arms and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Well, it’s true! I do like your scruffy look, though,” you said, standing on your toes to plant a kiss on his nose.

“Thank you… I think?” he said, leaning down to kiss you on the lips. You kissed him slowly, enjoying the sensation of him so close to you in such a private place. You almost never had him completely to yourself.

He seemed to have the same train of thought. He deepened the kiss, licking your bottom lip, asking for entrance and you let him in, sighing into the kiss as his tongue explored your mouth. His flesh hand roamed lower until it cupped your butt, squeezing gently. You gasped in surprise, back arching into him.

He broke the kiss, and you realized you were both panting slightly. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said gazing deeply into your eyes. You could tell the very thought of stopping killed him, but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do.

“Don’t you dare,” you said, lacing your fingers in his hair, and pulled him back into the kiss. Your words seemed to break whatever self control he had. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your hips against his for good measure. You both groaned into the kiss, friction divine between your bodies. His metal arm slipped under your shirt and gently palmed your breast. You moaned and pushed your chest into his hand, needing more.

“Bedroom,” he gasped between kisses, too lost in you to form the full question.

“Hallway. Third door on the left,” you answered. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the house pass by as he walked you there, but you were too busy enjoying the little sounds he made as you tugged on his hair to pay too much attention. Every tug was responded to with a pinch of one of your nipples through your bra.

“Door,” he panted. His hands were otherwise occupied so you reached behind you and opened it for him.

He made it three feet past the door before he set you down gently. You looked at him questioningly, heart pounding in your chest. You only had a moment to question what he was doing before he bent down to place light kisses on your neck. You gasped in pleasure when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot. He deftly undid the buttons to your blouse, trailing kisses down your newly exposed skin as he went. When the last button was undone he pulled it off of you and threw it on the floor. He paused, kneeling in front of you, eyes conflicted.

“You’re sure?” he asked, eyes blown with lust. Even in this state, erection straining against his jeans, he cared about you enough that he was willing to stop.

You kicked off your simple flats and kept eye contact with him as you slowly undid the buttons on your jeans and peeled them off. You placed your hand under his chin and pulled him back into a standing position. You pulled him in for a long, slow kiss.

“I’m sure,” you said. You grabbed his hand and led him to your bed, walking backwards so you could watch as the last of his careful, calm demeanor broke. The back of your legs his your bed and you stumbled, falling backwards onto it. You’d been so focused on him you hadn’t noticed you were already at it. He loomed over you as you both crawled further onto the bed. While you weren’t looking he’d taken his shoes and socks off.

“I’m feeling a little bit under-dressed here,” you whispered into his ear. He shivered and sat up enough to look at you. He shrugged off his jacket and you watched with rapt attention.

“I have one request,” he said, eyeing you with… was that fear? Trepidation? He was nervous about something.

“Anything, sweetheart,” you said, reaching up to caress his cheek gently with your thumb. He smiled at the touch, eyes closing briefly.

“Please don’t ask about it. The arm,” he sounded to far away and insecure the only thing he could do was nod.

He sighed in relief and slowly pulled his shirt off, quickly followed by the glove he always wore.

You gasped, taking in the broad expanse of his chest. Your eyes roamed across every toned muscle, reveling in the sight before you. When he saw you look at the part of his chest where his arm was fused to his flesh, he froze. You studied it carefully before you slowly reached up and ran your fingers along the jagged scarring. His breath left him in a hiss, tension rolling off of his shoulders.

You couldn’t fathom how much pain this had caused him. That it may still cause him. How anyone could-

You forced yourself to stay calm, mostly for his sake. You didn’t want him to misread your reaction. You sat up slowly, and gave him a small smile before you began placing kisses all over his chest. You were sure to kiss all along the scar where flesh met metal.

When you finished you looked up into your eyes and you swore your heart stopped beating for a second. The adoration for you that shone in his eyes was nearly blinding. Before you realized it, he laid you down, metal fingers deftly unhooking your bra, and threw it to the side. His lips worked one nipple while his flesh hand flicked and pinched the other. His touches earned a low moan from your lips and he hummed in appreciation at the sound. His metal hand ghosted down to between your legs where he gently rubbed your core through your panties. You gasped, bucking up into the touch, needing more.

“Please,” you gasped before your moans were swallowed by his lips. He went to switch his metal hand with his flesh one, but you stopped him. He looked up at you, raising a single eyebrow in question. You bit your lip, the sight of him over you arousing you even more. “I want you to fuck me with your metal hand,” you whispered.

He couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips at your words. In one swift motion he ripped your panties off. You were pretty sure you heard them tear. He admired you laid out before him and leaned in to kiss you deeply.

[Originally posted by sebastianstahp](https://tmblr.co/Z8TpWx20BzJjx)

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispered as he slipped a single metal finger into your depths. Your fingers tangled into his hair as he lowered his mouth to suck on your nipples. He bit gently as he worked his finger in and out of you. The two sensations were at war with each other; The cold metal finger plunging into your depths and his hot mouth on your breasts. The contrasting feelings were enough to drive you mad with lust.

Wordlessly, he moved down on the bed, trailing kisses down your stomach as he went. His whiskered jaw tickled your skin as he moved. Before you had time to wonder what he was doing, his tongue flicked out and licked your clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you said as you bucked involuntarily. He used his right arm to hold you down as he gave your clit another experimental lick. Your fingers tightened in his hair and he let out a low groan that you felt more than heard. Another finger slipped into your folds as his mouth latched onto your throbbing cunt. You threw your head back on the pillow as he turned you into a moaning puddle of goo. His mouth worked your clit expertly, tongue circling it before he sucked on it gently, always giving you new sensation. You could feel yourself getting closer to your peak.

“I- I’m close-” you managed to gasp out between moans.

“Come for me,” he demanded as he curled his fingers inside of you, rubbing your g-spot, and you came undone under his expert ministrations. Your hand grasped his hair as you did your damnedest to grind your hips into his face, needing as much friction as you could get. Your thighs clamped around his head as the blinding hot relief of an orgasm washed over you from head to toe. He didn’t seem to care; he continued to lap at your cunt, fingers working you expertly through your orgasm, keeping it going as long as he could.

Your body relaxed, spent, as the throes of your orgasm subsided. He pulled his fingers out slowly, causing you to shiver. He ran the back of his hand over his chin, wiping away your slick, as he crawled up next to you and kissed you slowly. You could taste yourself on his lips.

“Why do you still have your pants on?” you asked him as you rubbed his cock through his jeans.

“I have no idea,” he said, undoing his belt quickly. In the blink of an eye he was in nothing but boxers and those quickly joined the pants on the floor. If you thought he was magnificent shirtless he was an Adonis naked. You took in every inch of him. Your gaze eventually returned to his face and you realized he was staring at you, smirk plastered on his face.

“See somethin’ you like?” he asked, running his fingers lightly over your skin. The phrase nagged at you in the back of your mind, but you were too busy drinking in the entirety of him to pay it any attention.

“You’re stunning, you know,” you said, smiling at the almost shy look he gave you.

“And you say I’m a flatterer,” he teased, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Sit,” you said. When he didn’t move you sighed and added a “please,” which seemed to do the trick. You moved so he’d get your spot in the center of the bed. You crawled over him, and you could tell he was trying to figure out what your plan was. “Just relax,” you said, placing light kisses all over his face and neck. Relaxing completely seemed to be impossible for him, but some of the tension he had been carrying did vanish.

You climbed on top of his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. You kissed him slowly as you reached down to stroke his cock at a languid pace. He groaned into the kiss, hands roaming your body hungrily. You carefully lined him up to you as you worked his cock in your hand. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him. You both moaned when your hips met his, his cock buried completely inside of you.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart,” he groaned into the kiss. The sensation of him inside of you was overwhelming. Not only was he stretching you in the most delicious way, but the difference between his hot cock and his cold fingers that had just been in you made you moan in pleasure.

You moved up at a torturous pace, nearly pulling all the way off of him before slowly spearing yourself all the way onto his cock, all the way to the hilt. He groaned, hands gripping your hips as you ground your hips into is. You both craved more, and who were you to deny the work of art beneath you?

You moved more quickly, building a steady pace, his hands helping guide you as you rode him. Your pace became more erratic and you nearly came on the spot as your clit brushed against his abs and pelvis on the down stroke. He slammed you down onto his dick again and again, hips lifting to meet yours. You knew you’d have bruises tomorrow from where his hands gripped your hips. You didn’t care, meeting his thrusts eagerly with your own.

“Not- gonna last- much longer-” you moaned out, voice ragged.

“Me neither,” he groaned, pace becoming erratic as his own climax neared.

The tight coil in your belly was becoming unbearable until, suddenly, it snapped and you were moaning your orgasm out to the heavens.

Your orgasm was enough to send him over the edge. Your walls convulsed around him, squeezing his cock as he pumped it into your greedy pussy. With a last thrust, he buried himself all the way inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. You collapsed on top of him, not bothering to pull yourself off of his cock. He wrapped his arms around you and you rested your head on his chest. Once again the feeling of hot flesh and cold metal together made you shiver. You stayed like that for a few moments before he cupped your face in his hands and made you look up at him.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he said, rubbing your cheek with his metal thumb. You could still smell yourself on his fingers.

“Would you like to take a shower with me?” you asked, smiling up at him.

“I’d like that very much,” he replied, beaming down at you before he placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

 

* * *

[Originally posted by somewintersoldier](https://tmblr.co/Z7FPLj1zy9Toy)

**A couple months later**

It was the anniversary of your second year in Romania. After the rough patch a few months ago with Grant, things had been going smoothly. He seemed determined to prove how serious he was about you and you never once had a doubt about how much he liked you from that moment on.

You were going to tell him you loved him tonight, letters on your wrist be damned. You loved him. Everything about him. It was only your own doubt and insecurities that held you back, now.

 _“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited,”_ said Maren, grinning cheekily at you.

 _“Mind your own business, you old bat,”_ you said playfully, smiling at her.

She placed a hand over her heart, faking offense. _“How dare you! I’ll have you know I’m only forty. Forty is the new thirty which is the new twenty! I’m practically younger than you!”_ she said, grinning mischievously at you.

 _“You’re right, you’re right! How could I have been so foolish?”_ you asked, laughing with the woman.

 _“Oh, your boy is here,”_ she said, nodding her head towards the walkway. Sure enough, Grant was walking up the street. “Hello, motherfucker!” she said happily.

Grant seemed just as shocked as you did by the greeting, looking from you to Maren, eyebrow raised.

 _“Maren, where did you learn that?”_ you asked her, appalled.

 _“Oh, from a TV show. Why, did I say something wrong?”_ she asked, looking from you to Grant, suddenly concerned.

You laughed, loud, mirth etched across your face. Even Grant was chuckling gently behind his hand. _“I’ll tell you later, Maren,”_ you said, turning your attention to your lover.

“The usual, sweetheart?” you asked, already pulling out the bag from behind the display.

He nodded, leaning over the counter to give you a quick peck on the lips. Maren giggled like a schoolgirl in her stall next to yours. You rolled your eyes at her and handed Grant the paper bag with his two plums.

“You could get something else sometimes, you know,” you said, grinning at him.

“Your plums are the best, though,”  he said, smiling sweetly at you. You swore your heart might melt at the sight.

“We still on for tonight?” you asked a little too eagerly.

He raised an eyebrow at you before he broke into an earnest smile. “Of course,” he said, leaning in to give you a quick goodbye kiss. Normally he’d stay and chat longer, but you were meeting tonight. He never lingered at your stall long if he’d see you later in the day. It was one of his paranoid habits.

“See you then,” you said, beaming up at him.

“See you then,” he agreed and walked away from your stall.

 _“You two are so cute together. I’m happy for you. Is he your- you know-”_ Maren said, gesturing vaguely between you and his rapidly retreating form.

 _“… Lover?”_ you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

 _“No, no. Your…”_ She tapped the yellow ribbon she had tied around her wrist and your heart sank.

 _“I’m… not sure, but I don’t think so. His name doesn’t match my brand. I just… haven’t asked yet,”_ you said, eyes trained on the ground, unwilling to look at the disappointment you know you’d see reflected in Maren’s face.

Sensing your discomfort, she quickly changed the subject. _“Did you see the news?”_

 _“What news?”_ you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes at you and rummaged around her huge bag. You swore the thing was a portal to another dimension; there was no way it should hold as much as it did. After a few minutes of searching and swearing, Maren pulled out a crumpled newspaper. Considering that the date said it was from this morning, it was in remarkably bad shape.

On the front page was a story about a UN bombing. Apparently a terrorist set a bomb during the Sokovia Accords peace talking, killing the king of Wakanda along with a few others. You turned the page and felt your blood freeze in your veins.

It was a picture of Grant. Below the huge, blurry image, was the caption:

_**Wanted: Information on UN bombing suspect Winter Soldier also known as James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes. Highly armed and dangerous. Do not approach.**  
_

There was more, details about who to call if you had any information and what had happened to at the UN meeting, but you’d stopped reading.

 _“(Y/N)? Are you alright? You look like you just saw a ghost?”_ Maren asked. When did she get beside you?

“Bucky’s alive?” you asked, whirling around to face Maren.

 _“What?”_ she asked, confused. You’d slipped into English.

You swore. _“The Winter Soldier. Formerly known as James Buchanan Barnes. This man,”_ you said, pointing to the picture. _“He’s alive?”_ you asked, frantic.

Maren gave you a confused look. _“Well, I don’t know about the James fellow, but the Winter Soldier was in the news a few years back. Something about an attack on Washington D.C…. I think it was around time SHIELD went up in flames along with their helicarriers?_ ” she said, tapping a finger to chin as she thought.

You fell back into your chair. It creaked ominously under your sudden weight, but your entire world had just come crashing down around you. You felt as though you were being pulled away. Maren was talking to you but she sounded like she was at the end of a tunnel. You knew you were at the market, but everything seemed almost grey and far away.

Everything came violently back into focus as Maren pulled the paper out of your hand, eyes wide.

 _“This- this is-”_ Maren said, face set in horror.

 _“It’s not him, Maren,”_ you said, standing up abruptly. You made a move to grab the paper, but she backed away from you.

 _“Get away from me. You could be working with him for all I know,”_ she said, chin shaking with fear.

_“Maren, you know me. Please, just-”_

_“Is that why you always spoke English around me? So I couldn’t understand what you were plotting?”_ she balked, pulling out her phone.

 _“I haven’t plotted anything, Maren!”_ you said, distraught. How could she suspect you of plotting the assassination of UN officials from your produce stall in Romania? _“Please,”_ you said, eyes pleading.

She glared at you as she called the hotline number, face resolute. You swore and ran out of the stall, one thought on your mind.

You had to find Bucky.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You do what you have to get to Steve and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language
> 
> Translations: Tut mir leid, ich warte auf jemanden - Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.

[Originally posted by piscesandpercy](https://tmblr.co/ZZNaru21MkHi2)

You snatched a paper from a newsstand as you ran, eyes scanning the page for any information that might help you. According to the report, the Avengers weren’t authorized to take part in the capture of Bucky.

You knew that wouldn’t stop Steve, though. You gasped, suddenly remembering you still had his number on your American phone. You thanked yourself for deciding to carry it around with you, just in case. You yanked it out of your bag and powered it on. The screen blinked to life after a moment. It adjusted to the date and time and the full battery bar flashed at you and you were once again thankful you’d thought enough ahead to keep it charged.

All at once, your phone was barraged with texts from a number you vaguely recognized. One flashed across the screen and you saw the words “It’s Steve.” You quickly dialed the number attached to the text, looking around in panic. Everyone around you went about their day normally, not noticing you were inches away from a breakdown. The phone rang and rang until eventually you got Steve’s voicemail. At least you assumed it was. You recognized the pompous voice of Tony Stark. He had apparently recorded Steve’s voicemail for him. You didn’t pause to listen to the sarcastic remarks he made, hitting the end call button with a frustrated groan.

If Steve wasn’t picking up his phone, there was a damn good reason… or he was technologically inept, which was also pretty likely. He was nearly a hundred years old now, after all. You fought the urge to smash the phone onto the pavement, instead choosing to try and think through the situation.

You had to get to Bucky and warn him before someone else found him. If they truly believed that he was the UN bomber like the reports said he was, they weren’t liable to take him in quietly, especially with his history as the Winter Soldier.

 _Shit. Think, (Y/N), think. If I were Bucky where the hell would I live to hide from the world government?_ You racked your brain for somewhere in Bucharest that fit that description. He didn’t own a house. He needed somewhere he could lay low. He had to pay for everything in cash, so the place he stayed would have to allow rent payment in cash. From the research you did for your aunt you knew only a few places allowed that, but they were scattered across the city. It would take you hours to search all of them and that was if you were even allowed into the complexes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a large military vehicle speed across the cross street. Your stomach plummeted. You stared after it for a second before you raced after it. You’d never seen a truck like that before in your two years of living in the city. You couldn’t see inside, but if you could you knew you’d see soldiers. They knew he was here.

The part of the city it was headed towards was quieter. You lost sight of it pretty quickly, but others followed after it. Thanks to glimpses of them through alleys and around corners, you were able to guess where they were headed. It was an older part of town, but was close to an airfield. You were running down a quiet side street when someone grabbed your arm and yanked you into the alleyway.

“Shit!” you exclaimed before a hand clapped over your mouth. Your assailant spun you around and, if not for the hand still over your mouth, you would have announced to the entire neighborhood that Nick Fury was in the alleyway by screaming his name in surprise.

“Can you keep it down?” he asked, raising a critical eyebrow at you. You nodded your head vigorously and he removed his hand.

“What are you doing here, sir?” you hissed, glancing at the entrance of the alley.

“I still know people in the government. I got wind of this impending shitstorm and was worried you’d get caught in the middle of it, being close to Rogers and all,” he said quietly, leaning back against the wall.

“But I’m not the one in the middle of it! Grant- I mean, Bucky- He’s innocent! I have to get to him to warn him!” you said, anxiety getting the better of you, and made a break for the street. His hand closed around your arm before you made it more than a foot.

“Wait, wait. You’ve been in contact with Sargent Barnes? For how long?” he asked, shocked. You didn’t think the man had ever been or ever would be surprised in his life, but you just proved that wrong.

“I didn’t know for sure that it was him until just now. I thought Bucky was dead, and the man I’ve been spending time with just looked like him,” you said, quaking under the look he gave you.

“You thought it was just some big coincidence that a guy who looks, sounds, and acts exactly like Captain Roger’s former best friend found you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously.

“Alright well when you put it like that it sounds kinda stupid, but so does believing that a dead guy’s up and walking around, alive as can be!” you whisper-yelled at him.

“You never talked to Steve, did you?” he asked, shaking his head in annoyance.

You shook your head. “I turned my phone off as soon as I left D.C. so he couldn’t track it ” you said, holding up the phone in question.

“Normally I’d tell you that was smart, but, damn, you made Steve’s life so much harder than it had to be. And from the sound of it, you made yours more complicated, too,” he said, glaring from the phone to you.

“Wait, Steve knew Bucky’s alive? This whole time?” you asked, blood draining from your face.

“Yeah, found out the Winter Soldier was Sargent Barnes during the SHIELD take down. He’s been trying to find you ever since, but I’ve been keeping him off your trail. Stupid mistake on my part, apparently. He could have gotten you and his Bucky back in one fell swoop,” he said, crossing his arms as he stared down at you.

You felt like your knees might give out. Something he said earlier nagged at you. “You said something about Steve. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s going after Bucky?” you asked, eyes wide with fear.

Fury sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t here, honestly.”

“I have to go find them,” you said, turning on your heel to run away. Again, he caught your arm and held you in place.

“If you go find them right now you’re more likely to get yourself killed than anything else. The task force has a lot of trained men in there trying to take Barnes down. Rogers will have his hands full keeping him safe. He can’t worry about you, too,” he said, voice apologetic but stern.

“Take him down?” you asked, turning to look at Fury with barely- concealed terror. “As in kill him?”

He sighed, giving you a long, unreadable look before he nodded.

“Let me go,” you said, voice low.

“And what will you do if I do?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

Your jaw clenched as you searched your mind for an answer.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he asked, smirking slightly.

“No!” you yelled, exasperated. He looked around to see if your yelling had attracted any attention, but no one seemed to notice your outburst. “I know I can’t help them in a fight, okay? But I need to get to them, Mister Fury… they mean everything to me,” you said, eyes pleading.

His jaw flexed as he deliberated.  After what felt like an eternity, he pulled out a phone. He tapped the screen a few times, staring down at it with his good eye. “They’re taking them to Berlin,” he said, dropping your hand as he looked up from his phone. “A secure facility along the Havel River. North side. I can’t get you details, but I know someone who can. Meet them at Weißes Hirsch. It’s a pub on the north end of town. _Do not_ go to the base itself. However, if you decide to ignore that part- like I think you will- then definitely don’t talk to that bastard Everett Ross or Tony Stark. Ross’ll try to use you as bait and Tony’s not in the best head space right now.”

He gave you a resigned look as you wrote down the pub’s name. “Thank you,” you said, sincerity clear in your voice.

“Don’t thank me. You three haven’t come out of this alive yet,” he said as he turned to walk away. You didn’t want to waste a second, turning on your heel and running out of the alley towards your aunt and uncle’s home. You had plans to make and little time to make them.

Within the hour you’d packed a duffel bag with any essentials for a week’s travel and booked yourself a bus ticket for Berlin, Germany that left later that evening. You’d be in the city by tomorrow afternoon. You said your goodbyes to your aunt and uncle, promising an explanation for your sudden departure later. Your uncle was nice enough to drive you across town to the bus station.

[Originally posted by sheisnot](https://tmblr.co/Zjuclx1q2WBMn)

You slept fitfully on the bus, thoughts not allowing you true rest. You arrived in Berlin around noon and called for a cab to take you directly to the pub, whose name translated to the White Deer. You knew little German, but were able to direct your driver to the well-known pub. As you stepped out of the cab you realized you had no idea who you were looking for or if they were even there. You walked into the pub and your anxiety was assuaged when you laid eyes on a conspicuously inconspicuous redhead at the back of the room. Even though she was dressed casually, you spotted her immediately. You hefted your duffel bag over your shoulder and trudged to her table.

She smiled politely up at you. “Tut mir leid, ich warte auf jemanden,” she said, giving you an apologetic smile.

[Originally posted by multifandomimagines-17](https://tmblr.co/ZKoC6e2LT76bP)

“You’re waiting for Nick Fury, right?” you asked. She didn’t so much as flinch as she slowly reached under her jacket for what you assumed was a gun. “Hold on, hold on. He sent me. He told me you could give me some answers about Steve and Bucky,” you said quietly, hoping no one would hear you except her. Slowly she returned her hands back to the top of the table, gun absent, and she motioned for you to sit.

“No offense, but who the hell are you?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Ha, well. No one special. Just someone very concerned for a couple of stupid boys,” you said, placing an elbow on the table and resting your head on your palm.

“What’s your name?” she asked as she looked you over.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you told her. You weren’t sure if it was wise to trust the [in]famous Black Widow with your actual name, but you needed to trust her and she needed to trust you, it seemed.

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Steve mentioned you a few times. At least, he mentioned a (Y/N). What are you doing here?” she asked giving you a hard look.

“Nick Fury told me you might be able to help me.”

“With what?” she asked, looking curious and a bit confused.

“I have to help them. Bucky and Steve. Bucky’s innocent. He’s been with me in Romania for the last two years. He couldn’t have been with me and go on a bombing run in a different country at the same time,” you explained, hoping she would believe you.

“Do you have any proof?” she asked as she leaned back and gave you an unimpressed stare.

You groaned. You were hoping she wouldn’t ask that. “No, he’s paranoid. Didn’t want me to take any pictures of him, even after I promised I’d never post them anywhere. Said phones could be hacked and that it wasn’t me he didn’t trust, but the tech itself,” you said.

“If what you’re saying is true, then you’ll just get yourself into trouble if you say you’ve been with him. They’ll think you’ll be part of the assassinations-”

“I don’t care. Please, I have to help, or at least try. I need to try for both of them. I know Steve’s in deep shit, too, now that he’s helped Bucky. He didn’t do it, Miss Romanoff, and I don’t want Steve to take a fall for it, too,” you pleaded. “And if you don’t help me, I’ll march into that building by myself,” you said, face set in determination.

She leaned forward, suddenly tense, and stared you down. You felt anger rolling off of her. “I _am_ trying to help you. I tried to help Steve, too. I told him going in to save Bucky would only make things worse. He didn’t listen, either, and look where that got him: him, Bucky, and Sam grounded. Criminals,” she seethed.

“Steve had to go in. They had orders to shoot for the kill,” you argued. “At least he’s alive. They both are,” you said, glaring at the woman in front of you.

She sighed, leaning back against the booth. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.”

“Please, let me at least see them,” you pleaded

She stared at you for a long time, deliberating, before she seemed to make up her mind. “If I take you, you can’t speak about any of this to Ross, the Deputy Task Force Commander. He’s completely convinced that Barnes is behind the bombing, and he’s committed to seeing all three of them locked away. He’ll use you to get to them if he has to. Stay away from Tony, too, while you’re at it. Tony isn’t as fanatical about it. He still wants Steve to join them and thinks all the shit that Steve and Bucky have gotten themselves into can be undone by Steve signing the Sokovia accords, but Steve won’t budge. It’s driving Tony insane,” she said, staring at you seriously.

You’d begun nodding your head in agreement before she’d even finished. “Fury already warned me about Ross. I’ll blend into the background; I should fly right under his radar. Same with Stark. I doubt he stops looking at his reflection long enough to notice anyone else, though,” you said, smirking.

Natasha’s face twisted into a grimace. “Tony cares; more than you’d think. But I can see how you’d think that. He’s a humanitarian but also an insufferable ego maniac,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “So, we have a deal?” she asked, holding out a hand.

“Deal,” you agreed, shaking her hand once before you both dropped your hands. You slid out of the booth and grabbed your bag from under the table.

“If anyone asks, you’re one of my contacts checking in,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at you as she opened the door to the pub.

“Alright, sweet. Do I get a secret agent alias?” you asked, suddenly excited.

“Do you need one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at you as she opened the door of a black Audi A4 on the street outside of the pub. She popped the trunk so you could throw your bag in the back.

You shrugged. “I thought I might,” you said as you tossed your heavy duffel in the trunk and hopped in the passenger side.

You saw her roll her eyes as she pulled out of her parking space and began racing off down the street. “Fine, then you’re now Elena Dalca. Don’t bother giving yourself a story. You’re pretending to be a spy, now. They don’t give away information on themselves. People probably won’t even believe that’s your real name on principle. Feel free to change it every time you introduce yourself just to fuck with people,” she said, grinning wickedly.

“Isn’t this base high security? Like, _really_ high security? Will they just let me in?” you asked, unsure.

“They’ll let you in if you’re not carrying any weapons and I tell them to,” she said. She glanced at you, looking you up and down once. “You’re _not_ carrying weapons, right?” she asked.

“No, of course not!” you said defensively.

“Wait, how did you plan on getting in if I didn’t help you?” she asked, giving you a sideways look.

“Well I didn’t have a solid plan yet, but Plan B was getting arrested by the guards,” you said, grimacing.

She groaned. “That doesn’t even count as a plan,” she said giving you an exasperated look as she turned a corner.

You glanced around you as she drove; you were going further into the city. You occasionally spotted the Havel River through the buildings. “No, it really isn’t,” you said, frowning. “But it’s all I had. I can’t very well break into the base with my nonexistent super strength or teleport them out with imaginary magic powers.”

She snorted at that. “You’d be surprised what one normal human can do,” she said, smirking.

“Ok I’m also not a well-trained kickass super spy,” you said. “But I acknowledge your point.”

She smiled at that, but it quickly slid off her face as she rounded the corner.

A huge building towered over the Havel, part of it on one side, more parts on the other. It was connected by a large sky bridge. What got your attention, however, was the crowd of people running out of and away from the building, their fear and confusion clear even from a block away.

“Guess we won’t have to worry about sneaking you in, now,” she said as she pulled up onto the sidewalk and parked, scattering scared pedestrians. She opened the door and jumped out and you followed suit. “Forget your bag for now, we have bigger things to worry about,” she said, jogging towards the guardhouse. You nodded and followed her.

“I’m guessing this isn’t normal?” you asked, panting as you tried to keep up with her. 

“My definition of normal is a little skewed, but if you’re asking if this is supposed to happen, then the answer is no, it’s not,” she said as she pushed past panicked people. Suddenly she whirled, grabbing your arm. “Stay out here. If there are people attacking the base, you’ll just get yourself killed,” she ordered, turning back towards the building. She pulled out a gun as she ran, face set in determination.

“Wait, Nat- Oh, hell,” you groaned, as she disappeared into the crowd. You glanced around, looking for a way to help. You were unwilling to sit there and twiddle your thumbs, but didn’t feel like walking into death, either.

After you heard an explosion somewhere you couldn’t see in the compound followed by the sound of something huge hitting the river you couldn’t handle being stationary anymore and ran into the building. You gasped when you saw Natasha laying on the floor, gasping as she cradled her neck. A pretty blond was groaning on top of one of the destroyed cafe tables to your left. You ran to the blond first. She was closer. She seemed alright overall, just a bit shaken up. You offered your hand and she grasped it, wincing as you helped her up.

“Thanks,” she said, giving you a small, tight smile. You nodded and ran over to Black Widow, who looked ever worse.

“Natasha, are you alright?” you asked, hands hovering, unsure exactly what was wrong with her. She seemed to be in one piece, which was a plus.

“Fine,” she croaked out as she stood, stumbling slightly. You wanted to argue that she was not, in fact, fine, but you liked your bones not broken.

“Agent Romanoff, who is this?” came a voice from behind you. You turned around and realized it was the pretty blond you’d just helped up.

“Agent Dalca. She just arrived to report to me, but stumbled upon this mess instead,” Natasha said before you could speak up.

“Got it,” the blond said, apparently buying Natasha’s bullshit story. “Let’s split up. Natasha, you can canvas the upper floors. I’ll go with Agent Dalca to search the lower floors,” she said, turning to head towards the stairs. The building appeared to be on lock down. You sent Natasha a glance, panic barely concealed. Her gaze flicked from you to the blond before she nodded once.

[Originally posted by thoranda](https://tmblr.co/ZHjz0q2MlQzzr)

“Go with Agent Carter. Here are the keys to the car we drove here, just in case you need a getaway car. It’s not bugged or being GPS tracked, I made sure of it. Don’t go for your stuff without me; you’ll never get back into the building on your own. Stay calm and get back to me asap,” she whispered as she pulled the keys to the car out of her jacket pocket and tossed them to you. You shoved them in your pocket as you ran after Carter and bit back your panic. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Agent Carter pulled open the door and you followed after her, sparing one last glance back at Natasha, who had seemingly vanished. The sight wasn’t comforting. You began searching the levels below the ground floor. If you weren’t so tense, you’d be shocked at how huge the building was. Somewhere through the third level, Sharon got a call. She left you alone to survey the room you’d been searching together and went into the next room, shutting the door behind her.

Only, she was in such a rush she didn’t close it all the way. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, instead trying to use this chance to escape to Natasha, but her words drifted out into the otherwise empty, quiet hallway, and something she’d said made you freeze in your tracks.

“Steve, this is a huge favor-” she hissed, sounding angry and a bit resigned.

_Steve? As in… Steve Rogers? She’s on the phone with Steve?  
_

You inched closer to the door as quietly as you could and carefully pushed it open so that you could see her. Her back was turned to you.

Steve must have been talking for a bit. Eventually she spoke again and you strained your ears to make out her words.

“Fine, fine. I get it. You said you need all the gear we took and some stuff for Barnes, too?” A pause, then “Alright, got it. Meet you there. You better be right about all of this,” she said, ending the call.

She turned around and you realized a second too late that you probably should have moved back to the other room. She spotted you watching from the crack in the door and in a flash she’d jumped over the tables, papers scattering to the floor as she went. She wrenched the door open and pulled you inside, throwing you into a table as she slammed the door and locked it. Before you could right yourself, she was on top of you, hand on your throat.

Although she wasn’t completely cutting off your oxygen supply, it was distinctly uncomfortable. “Alright, if you’re an agent of Natasha’s I’m just going to come right out and say it: you’re shit at your job. How much of that did you hear?” she asked, hand squeezing your neck slightly as she glared down at you.

“Enough to know you want to help Steve and Bucky, too,” you choked out, hands clawing at her wrist.

“Help them, ‘too’?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at you.

You nodded as much as you could with her hand around your neck. “‘S why I’m here. Bucky’s innocent. ‘M here t’help ‘im,” you said, gasping. Her grasp on your neck loosened to almost nothing and you greedily sucked in air.

“Steve just said the same,” she said, staring down at you, sounding cautious.

You nodded, trying to ignore the pang in your heart at the way she said Steve’s name. “I’ve seen Bucky every day for the last three months. It wasn’t him who bombed the Accords meeting,” you said, willing her to believe you.

Something clicked in her head. “That’s why you’re here, right? To try and clear Barnes’ name of the bombing? That’s why Natasha helped you get in?” she asked, finally removing her hand from your neck.

“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing your neck tenderly. She stared at you, looking for any signs of deceit. Seeing none, she stood, extending her hand to help you up. How the tables had turned. You took her hand and she helped you to your feet. You watched as she paced the room, thinking.

After a minute she stopped and turned to you. “You heard all of that, right?” she asked.

“Most of it, I think. You were on the phone with Steve. He asked for his gear back, along with new gear for Bucky? It sounds like you’re going to meet him somewhere with it and it’ll likely get you in loads of trouble,” you said.

She nodded. “Yeah, that’s most of it. We need to get Steve and Sam’s gear out of lockup and snag some equipment for Barnes as well. I could use your help, though,” she said, voice filled with trepidation.

“Anything to help them,” you said, determined.

“If you’re willing, you could be a diversion while I get their gear to them. Getting in and out of the vault isn’t the problem right now while everything’s still a mess. It’s getting all the way to them without getting caught. My car is sure to be tracked,” she explained.

“Oh, I think I might have a solution to that,” you said, pulling out the keys Natasha gave you. “I have a car that’s free of tracking devices and bugs, courtesy of Natasha herself. She was using it to sneak around, so I know it’s clean; She wouldn’t let herself be tracked,” you explained. “We can swap cars. I’ll go one way in yours and you’ll go to the boys in the other,” you said, smiling at your ingenuity.

“Not you?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “You seemed so eager to help them a moment ago; I’m a little surprised you don’t want to go to them,” she said, studying you closely.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “And which one of us has a better chance of getting to them if this plan goes awry? The girl who works at a produce stand or the highly trained secret agent?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Yes, I want to help them and, hell, I want to see them again _so badly_ , but no. It has to be you,” you said, tossing her the keys.

She smiled at you, pocketing them. “Alright, it sounds like we have a plan. Let’s go break into a high security vault,” she said, smile widening as the blood drained from your face.

“Lead the way, ma’am,” you said, motioning grandly to the door.

“Call me Sharon,” she said as she unlocked the door. “Sharon Carter.”

“I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

* * *

Turns out Sharon was right. Everything was in chaos. The men that had been guarding the vault were still knocked out or dead from the earlier attack. According to Sharon, a man had posed as the doctor sent to psychoanalyze Bucky and had somehow reverted him back into the Winter Soldier. He’d wreaked havoc on the place and then disappeared into the Havel River with Steve. In the confusion, Sam had escaped with them. Forces were focused on finding them, not defending the now mostly empty building. While you and Sharon searched you’d stumbled across a black duffel that you knew could be easily confused with your own. You brought it with you, hoping it would fit all of the gear.

Sharon found the right vault using the cataloguing computer outside of the entrance to the vaults. Your first stop was the armory where you picked out some clothes you knew would fit Bucky; it wasn’t much but it was better than the jeans and thin shirts he’d been wearing when you last saw him. You threw some pistols in for good measure; standard military guns. The feel of the weapons in your hands brought back memories of the Battle of New York. You threw in an SMG for good measure, followed by a few boxes of ammo for each gun.

Sam and Steve’s gear followed. The suits fit into the bag, as did Sam’s wings, but it took a lot of shoving and cajoling to get Steve’s shield to fit. It made the bag bulge awkwardly, but together you managed to zip it up.

You moved to lift it off of the floor and nearly threw out your back. “Fuck, this is heavy. Take one side,” you said, holding onto the handle at one end.

“Oh, hell, you weren’t kidding,” she said, grunting as she grabbed the other end.

“This has got to be the least stealthy thing ever,” you said as you and Sharon made it up to the main floor.

“You’ve never seen Steve try to spy on someone,” she said, chuckling.

“He thinks he doesn’t draw attention? Looking like that? He’s practically a skyscraper. A ripped, handsome skyscraper,” you said in disbelief.

You both froze when you heard voices coming down the hallway. Sharon threw the shoulder strap on, wincing as it dug into her shoulder. You pretended to talk about places to search and the status of the building as a couple of armed agents ran by, giving Sharon a curt nod as they passed.

When they were out of earshot, you both went back to carrying an end. “We need to get out of here quickly. They were headed for the vaults. I don’t know how long it’ll be before they discover the gear’s gone,” she said, picking up the pace.

You groaned. This was difficult to begin with, but moving faster only made it worse. Still, you managed to keep up with her.

Five agonizing flights of stairs later, you were on the main floor, walking out the door. The guards at the main gate were still too preoccupied with getting everyone else taken care of that a quick glance at Sharon’s badge was all you needed to get out with the huge duffel.

“Where’s the car?” Sharon asked, huffing under the weight of the bag.

“Halfway down the block on the sidewalk,” you said, tilting your head to the right.

As you got close she popped the trunk. You maneuvered over to the back and set the larger duffel down. You yanked your duffel out (it felt feather-light by comparison) and shoved the heavier one in. The car’s end dipped ominously before the shocks righted it again. Sharon slammed the trunk shut and pulled out the keys to her car.

“You’re looking for a silver Cadillac ATS-V coupe. Fourth floor of the garage across from the base. Get out of here as soon as possible. Head west out of the city,” she said as she walked to the driver’s side. “Oh, and here,” she said as she dug into her pockets. She pulled out a small wad of euros and handed it to you.

“Thanks.” you said, pocketing the cash. “Steve has my number. Call me when you reach him so I know when it’s safe to ditch the car; I’d rather not be caught if I can help it,” you said, giving her a lopsided smirk.

“Got it,” she said, sliding into the car.

“Go save those boys,” you said, smiling a you shut her door.

She nodded, smiling determinedly at you as she pulled off the sidewalk and sped down the road, taillights disappearing around the corner.

You hefted your bag over your shoulder and walked quickly but as calmly as you could to the garage she mentioned. You took the elevator, knowing your legs wouldn’t make it up four flights of stairs with your bag over your shoulder. Using the key’s unlock button, you quickly found the car as it beeped at you from across the garage, reverse lights flashing at you. You threw your bag into the trunk and only had a seconds to admire the beautiful exterior before you hopped in the driver’s seat. You peeled out of the garage, trying not to think about how illegal it was to drive in a country you didn’t have a license for. You used the car’s built in GPS to head west, out of the city like Sharon instructed you.

You’d been driving for about twenty minutes before your phone rang in your pocket. You fumbled for it for a second before you pulled it out and pressed the green accept call button.

“(Y/N),” the person on the other side of the line said. You’d been expecting Sharon, so Steve’s deep voice surprised you.

“Stevie?” you asked. You were slightly appalled with yourself at how easily you slipped into using Rosie’s old name for him.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Sharon found you, then?” you asked as you searched for a place to pull over and ditch the car.

“Yeah, she did,” he said. You heard him say something else to someone next to him, but he must have held his had over the speaker; his voice was muffled and you couldn’t make out the words.

“Is Bucky there?” you asked before you could stop yourself. You pulled into a parking lot that was next to the nearest bus stop you found. You tossed the keys on the driver’s seat and left the door open, hoping someone would come along and steal it; it might buy you more time.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Steve said. Once again you could hear muffled talking. Apparently it was Bucky he’d been talking to.

“Can I talk to him?” you asked, unsure, brows furrowed in confusion. You would have thought he would have wanted to talk to you immediately.

There was another short, muffled conversation before Steve spoke again. He sounded… angry? Annoyed? It didn’t seem like it was directed at you, though. Bucky, then? “Listen, (Y/N). We have to go. I’m sorry. It’s important. Really important. If we make it out of this, meet me at Rosie’s old place in Brooklyn. Get out of Germany as soon as possible, before authorities catch on that you helped us and Sharon,” he said.

“Steve, what-”

“We love you, sweetheart. Stay safe,” he said, warmth suddenly returning to his voice.

“Steve, you can’t just-” you began, but the _beep_ of him ending the call interrupted you. You angrily tapped the call back button on the phone. You were slightly livid when you got a pre-recorded message telling you the number was unavailable. You tried once more for good measure, but got the same message.

You groaned in frustration and spotted the bus coming down the road out of the corner of your eye. You quickly looked up the word for airport (as well as how to pronounce it) on your phone. The bus slowed down to pick you up, coming to a creaky stop as it opened its doors.

“Flughafen?” you asked the bus driver. He nodded and said something you didn’t understand beyond the word “Ja,” pointing down the road the direction he was going. You knew that one, at least. That meant yes. You hopped on the bus, shoving some euros to the driver. He began to make change but you waved a hand at him.

“Nein, nein. Danke,” you said. That was about your entire German vocabulary there. He shrugged at you and you moved to take a seat on the back of the bus, maneuvering your enormous bag around the seats, and placed it next to you.

Using your phone and the sudden influx of time you’d just found, you booked a flight on the next plane to JFK Airport in New York. With that done, you called three people. Your aunt and uncle were first; You informed them you were going back to America for the foreseeable future, thanked them for letting you stay with them, promised you visit at the behest of your aunt, and told them you loved them.

Next, you called Dean, who seemed surprised to hear from you.

“Thought you weren’t coming back for a while, Boss,” he said. Had his voice gotten deeper? It sounded like it did.

“Dean, did you burn down my cafe?” you asked teasingly.

“No, ma’am,” he said earnestly.

“Dean, I thought we were past you calling me ‘Boss’ and ‘ma’am’,” you said, exasperated.

“Sorry, (Y/N). Old habits die hard,” he said, apologetic.

“It’s alright, dear. My apartment still in one piece, too?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Want me to get it cleaned up for you?” he asked. His thoughtfulness made you smile.

“That would be great, Dean. I’ll be back in about twelve hours,” you said.

“That soon?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“Yeah, something’s come up,” you said evasively. If he noticed your purposely vague answer, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Alright, I’ll try to have everything ready by then,” he said. You could tell he was already barking orders to the other people working at the cafe. It was about 8 am there. The cafe had been open for two hours already.

“You’re the best, Dean,” you said smiling.

“See you soon, (Y/N),” he said happily. “Have a safe flight.”

“Will do,” you said, ending the call.

You sighed and leaned your head against the windows of the bus. You tried not to think about how Bucky hadn’t talked to you. If he was right there it should have been easy for him to just.. say something, anything, to you. And even though Steve was telling the truth, something was off. He’d sounded annoyed and angry after you’d asked if you could talk to Bucky, but you could tell it wasn’t directed at you.

Could it be that Bucky didn’t want to talk to you? That would elicit that reaction from Steve, but that was impossible. Steve said it himself. They were headed straight towards danger. You might not see them again- Bucky would never-

Your thoughts swirled ominously in your head, making you dead to the world until it came to a jolting stop. You realized you’d arrived at the airport. You hopped off using the back door and clutched the strap of your duffel, trying to lessen the pain of it digging into your shoulder.

You pushed all of your thoughts about Bucky and Steve to the back of your mind. This would take all of your attention. Airports were tricky when you spoke the language everything was in, but this would be an adventure.

[Originally posted by theplaneworld](https://tmblr.co/Z9ikKj29ogfaV)

“New York, here I come.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You arrive in New York and wait for Steve and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, unsafe vehicular etiquette (wear your fucking seat belt)

[Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh](https://tmblr.co/Zj1kBx2OORBhN)

Dean, bless his heart, had come to pick you up from the airport. He chatted happily the entire way back to the cafe, voice filling the space of his messy SUV. Under his care the cafe was thriving. It was doing just as well if not better than it had while you ran it. He sobered a bit when he talked about the recent events surrounding the Sokovia Accords. Your attention snapped to him when he said there had been reports that the Avengers were duking it out in a southern German airport.

“Wait, didn’t you fly in from there?” he asked, turning to look at you while you were stopped at a red light.

“I flew in from the larger one in west Berlin,” you said.

“Oh, damn. It would have been awesome to see the Avengers fight firsthand. I hope they capture that Barnes dude. I don’t know why Cap is helping him. He’s a monster,” Dean said flippantly.

You gritted your teeth. You knew Dean didn’t know any better. “Maybe he has a good reason. I trust Captain America,” you said stiffly.

He gave you a confused look out of the corner of his eye. Although he didn’t know exactly why, he knew you well enough to know he’d pissed you off somehow.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said amicably. You relaxed a little bit. Dean was a good kid. He didn’t deserve your anger.

“Any more news about the Avengers? Recent news, that is,” you asked.

“Nothing solid, but they’re speculating that The Winter Soldier and Captain America escaped,” he informed you. “And it seems like the rest of the people that helped them are going to be locked up somewhere top secret.”

“People helped them?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, there was some leaked footage. Let’s see. There was Wanda Maximoff, the magic-y chick that blew up a building a week ago… the Falcon - no shocker there, him and Cap are best friends-… and some dude in a red suit that could get huge and could also disappear. No one knows who he is-,” he said, ticking them off on his hand as he spoke. “Oh, and the archer dude. Hawkeye,” he said, holding up a fourth finger.

“Shit.” _Steve is gonna beat himself up over that one, guaranteed._

“Yeah, it’s crazy. They must trust Cap a lot to defend that Barnes dude like that,” he said, shaking his head slightly.

He pulled into the garage that was a block away from the cafe (and your apartment, which was above it). It was easier to park here than look for it on the street. Dean was one of the few people crazy enough to drive in New York. He usually took the subway, but drove occasionally, and you were grateful that he did.

“You’re 22 now, right?” you asked as you exited the car. You went to pull your duffel off of the back seat, but Dean had reached it before you, hauling it out and slinging it over his shoulder. “Thanks,” you said, and he nodded at you, smiling.

“Yeah, why?” he asked.

“Pizza and a six pack enough of a payback for picking me up?” you asked, grinning.

He chuckled as you walked towards the garage exit. The lights flickered, casting odd shadows on the grimy cement walls around you. You hated this garage. You swore you’d get stabbed in here one day. You didn’t want today to be that day, so you walked a little more quickly to the elevators.

“Yeah, that’s more than enough,” he said, pressing the button to call the elevator. “Everyone’s really excited to see you, you know,” he said, smiling at you as you both stepped into the elevator.

“I’m excited to see them, too. I’m actually a little surprised everyone’s still there. I would have thought they’d be upset I made a nineteen year old look after the shop,” you said, grimacing slightly.

“A couple of them were pretty upset at first, but they saw how long you’d taken to train me. After I took over and they realized I could run the cafe they backed off. Whenever there’s a hiccup some are still quick to blame me, but the rest are pretty level-headed about it,” he said as the elevator climbed floors. It reached street level and you both walked out.

“Well, that’s good. I chose you for a reason,” you said, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled and blushed a little at that. You paused. “Hey, listen. I don’t know how long I’ll be staying. Don’t think you’re done watching over my cafe yet,” you said, a hint of teasing entering your voice as you said the last part.

“Can you really call it your cafe if you haven’t been running it for the last two years?” he asked, equally teasing.

“Whose name is on all of the paperwork?” you asked crossing your arms as you leveled a steely glare at him.

“Yours, but only because they wouldn’t let you sign everything over to a twenty year old,” he said, crossing his arms right back at you.

“Shit, I’d hoped you’d forgotten about that,” you said, uncrossing your arms and slumping slightly.

He laughed at your expense for a minute then sobered. “What’s this about leaving again?” he asked, glancing at you as you turned the corner onto the street the cafe was on.

“Well I’m going to be visiting Brooklyn for the next few days. I don’t entirely know what’ll happen,” you said, wishing you could explain more.

“Uh huh… and can you explain why you’re going to be in Brooklyn?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Uh… I’m hoping to see an old friend there?” you said, hoping he wouldn’t question you further.

He gave you a long stare, silently judging you. “Whatever you say, (Y/N),” he said finally.

Finally, you arrived in front of your store. “Oh, beautiful! How I’ve missed you!” you exclaimed, wrenching open the door to the cafe.

[Originally posted by blackandwh0te](https://tmblr.co/ZHCZjl2OPE2h7)

You were immediately bombarded by aproned baristas. You tried to shush them as a few customers shot you dirty looks over their laptops; You’d obviously interrupted some very important screenplay or fanfiction writing.

The girls dragged you to the back of the shop, asking you all kinds of questions about Romania and your flight back, which you happily answered.

“Tadah!” Taliyah said, revealing a beautifully decorated cake with “welcome back” written on it in light blue frosting.

“It’s yellow cake with chocolate frosting, your favorite!” Katelyn helpfully chimed in.

“Not even five minutes back and you’re already trying to get me fat again?” you quipped, grinning at both at them.

“Well if you don’t eat it, I will,” Dean said from behind you.

“Shit, Dean. I totally forgot. Here, lemme take that,” you said, reaching out for your bag. He deftly dodged you, moving to the stairs at the back of the room that led up to the apartment immediately above it. The door to the apartments floors three and above were next to the shop’s entrance, but you were lucky enough to have an entrance to yours linked directly to your shop.

“It’s not a problem. You catch up with Kate and Tali,” he said, throwing you a smile as he went to go throw your stuff upstairs.

“Tell us all about Romania,” Kate said, grabbing a knife from the kitchen area to cut the cake with.

Over the next twenty minutes you talked about your time with your aunt and uncle. Dean joined you back downstairs a few minutes into your stories. You talked about how you worked a merchant stall in an idyllic, quaint old part of Bucharest and how you helped your aunt start up a business. Tali and Kate took turns popping in and out of the cafe to take care of customers and all four of you munched happily on _welcome back_ cake.

“Ok, but you had to have found someone you liked there,” Tali said, grinning eagerly from her spot on a bar stool that she’d parked next to the door to the cafe’s main room.

“Yeah, come on. There had to be a cute guy… or girl?” she asked waggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

You laughed at her antics. You wanted to tell them about Bucky so badly, but you couldn’t. Maybe you could tell them about Grant, though? No, it was too risky. “No, no. There was no one, male or otherwise,” you said, smirking at their crestfallen expressions. “I have to get going. It’s been at least two days since I showered,” you said. You sniffed yourself experimentally and wrinkled your nose. Yeah, you were definitely rank. You let out an exaggerated gag for their benefit which made them laugh. They gave you another hug (brave souls) and told you once again how much they missed you.

You trudged up the stairs to your apartment, old stairs creaking under your weight, and locked it behind you. You took a moment to appreciate Dean’s handiwork. It was like you hadn’t even been gone for two years. Although things were still in boxes, it seemed like most of your furniture had been uncovered, the floors swept, and surfaces things dusted. The bathroom was in a similar state. He’d even found a towel for you. You found your duffel in your bedroom, sitting on top of your bed. You realized he’d found your sheets, too. You supposed you weren’t that surprised. He’d helped you with a lot of you packing. He’d meticulously labeled the boxes of everything that was staying in the apartment. You pulled out your shampoo and body wash. They were some of the few things you’d grabbed from your aunt and uncle’s house before you’d left. You also grabbed a change of clothes, not really looking too closely at what you’d grabbed, and headed to the bathroom. It seemed like Dean had been conscientious enough to run the water for a little while. There was still some water in the base of the tub and when you started the water it ran clean immediately and stayed clean, no rust or dirt in sight. You stripped while you waited for it to heat up.

When it was hot enough you stepped in, closing the curtain behind you. You washed your hair and body quickly, but stood in the spray for a long time. At some point you’d sat down in the bottom of the tub, but you didn’t remember doing that. The panic you’d been obstinately denying and ignoring was clawing its way through your chest.

Steve and Bucky were missing. They’d gone off to who knows where, their friends most likely taken to a prison in Fuckthatville, Godknowswhere. Without Natasha, Fury, or Sharon to tell you what was happening, you were in the dark. You didn’t know if they were alive. For the first time in a long time you stared at the letters on your wrist. Your soul brand usually made your heart ache, but this time it was different. It made you feel even more panicked and helpless. Your boys- Rosie’s boys- were out there risking their lives. They always would, you knew. It was in their nature. But not knowing was worse than anything else. Rosie had never lost them, you knew; They’d lost her. Rosie didn’t remember much from the last years of her life. From the few things you could find, it seemed like Rosie had died at the age of sixteen, long before Steve had become the Captain and Bucky supposedly died at the young age of 21. You didn’t know the pain of losing them, but you knew it would break you. Steve had had Bucky when you’d died, but the closest you had was Dean, but he was no Bucky to your Steve.

You stood suddenly, nearly losing your balance as blood rushed back to its proper place. You wouldn’t let yourself think like that. They were fine. You’d see Steve and Bucky in a day or two at Rosie’s old Brooklyn home. You strained your mind to try and think of the address. Things not directly relating to Steve were pretty hard to remember. Even Bucky was fuzzy in most of Rosie’s memories. The only reason you remembered as much as you did was because he was always with Steve. The water had gone pretty chilly while you’d been having a silent breakdown in the shower. You shivered as you turned off the water and grabbed your towel.

“They’re okay. They’re gonna be okay,” you said, repeating the mantra as you dried off and got dressed. Your internal clock was telling you it was time to sleep and you agreed. They almost definitely wouldn’t be in the U.S. for at least eight hours. Maybe less if they used some sort of high-tech fancy jet, but you were willing to bet work as dangerous as theirs would hold them up for a bit.

You walked back into your room, freshly showered, and threw the duffel off of your bed and onto the floor. You didn’t even bother to get under the blankets, flopping face-down onto the bed.

“Sleep now. Nothing you can do to help. Brooklyn tomorrow,” you told yourself. Your mind and body were unwilling to rest, but eventually the lack of good sleep and stress-induced fatigue pulled you into dreamland.

* * *

You spent the next two days going to Rosie’s old place. Turned out the actual house had been torn down a long time ago and an apartment complex had been erected in its place. But it was still the correct address. Rosie recognized some of the old buildings in the area through your eyes. You’d been through the neighborhood a couple of times before but avoided it on principle. Rosie’s memories were shockingly vivid- almost hallucination-worthy. It was annoying on a good day, jarring and upsetting on a bad day.

You staked out the house at a cafe across the street. Their coffee was crap compared to your place’s, but you drank it just to give yourself something to do. You’d watch people on the street pass by. Certain sounds or feelings would trigger a Rosie memory, and you’d be teleported back eighty years. A breeze played with your hair and tickled your nose and suddenly the road was filled with people and beautiful, curvy classic cars. Nearly all of the men wore suits and hats. The women wore long, modest dresses and their hair was nearly universally short or pinned up on their head. You felt like you were at least two feet shorter and when you glanced next to you a vision Steve was there, laughing brightly at something someone had said. He was still weak and sickly in these memories. He was so different, yet still the same Steve you knew today.

Suddenly the world warped back to the present and you sighed. You hoped more than ever before that they’d be back soon. You were getting tired of Rosie’s visions. Every day you waited made your anxiety heighten. Every day they didn’t return made the long list of their possible fates in your head get even longer, but only one became more and more likely.

* * *

Day three brought some relief. You grabbed the paper from the stand at the front of the cafe and nearly dropped your coffee as you read the title.

 _“Bucky Barnes Innocent of Sokovia Accords Bombing”_ it read. Your heart thudded in your chest as you took your usual seat that gave you full view of the complex across the street.

You read the article, eyes quickly consuming every word. Due to evidence uncovered by parties unknown, it was made clear to the UN he wasn’t the one responsible for the bombing. Apparently, however, he was still wanted for the murders he committed as the Winter Soldier. You grimaced. You supposed that was to be expected, at least. But at least his name was clear of a crime he didn’t commit. Not that you believed it had truly been Bucky who had committed all of those murders. No, he’d been a brainwashed weapon of Hydra- a gun pointed at whoever they wanted. He was different, now. You’d seen that every day you spent with him. It was in his eyes; his laugh. He was a good man. A truly good one. You sighed, closing your paper, and glanced up at the complex and nearly choked on your coffee.

Across the road was Steve and the woman you recognized as Wanda Maximoff. He gave you a small wave and then bent over to whisper something in Wanda’s ear as he pointed to you. She gave you a warm smile and waved at you, too. You gave them a tiny wave, your eyes wide with shock. Steve raised an eyebrow at you and motioned for you to come over.

You stood a little too suddenly, and the cafe patrons around you gave you funny looks, but you didn’t notice. Steve snorted and covered his mouth with his hand. You could tell he was grinning broadly beneath his hand. Wanda’s smile widened, eyes sparkling with humor.

You crossed the road, checking to make sure it was clear before you stepped off the curb and tried to act as naturally as you could. If Wanda and Steve’s reactions were anything to go by, you were failing spectacularly.

“Stevie!” you said as you hopped up onto the curb and threw yourself into his arms.

[Originally posted by 08sarchive](https://tmblr.co/ZC19Cf2LOSFAl)

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, slightly surprised, but wrapped his arms around you anyway.

He smelled just like Rosie remembered. It was comforting. You let him rub your back gently for a minute, completely content, with no intention of letting go, when Wanda cleared her throat next to you.

You jumped back and away from Steve, startled. Had that been you or Rosie? You couldn’t tell.

“Uh, hi. Wanda, right?” you asked, extending your hand.

She smiled at you and shook your hand. “Yes. It’s (Y/N), right? I’ve only heard it about fifty times the last few days,” she said, throwing Steve a tight smile.

“Ah, uh… I’m sorry?” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Oh, don’t be. It was nice seeing that side of Steve and Bucky,” she said, smiling for a second before her face fell.

“Oh, right. Where _is_ Bucky?” you said, looking around for him as though he’d pop out from behind a car or something.

Steve wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Stevie…?” you said, voice questioning. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and he closed his mouth again. He tried again, but the same thing happened.

“Steve, don’t tell me he’s-” you began, barely daring to breath.

“He’s not dead,” he said, finally looking at you. You breathed out a huge sigh of relief, but quickly focused on him again.

“Why isn’t he here, then? Was he worried he’d draw too much attention to himself?” you asked, confused.

“That’s, ah. Well… you see…” Steve rambled, unable to find the words he needed.

“We should get out of here. I don’t know how long I can continue making people ignore out presence. I may slip up, and we definitely don’t want that to happen this close to Stark,” Wanda said. It was only then you noticed her eyes were glowing red and small tendrils of red energy were seeping out at her feet and fingertips.

“Right, let’s go, then,” Steve said, more confident now that he had something concrete to do.

He grabbed your hand, engulfing it in his own. Without either of you thinking about it, your fingers laced together. It felt so natural you didn’t even think to question it.

“Where are we going?” you asked Steve as the three of you walked briskly down the sidewalk.

“Well, we’re trying to find a safe place to hide right now. I forced them to let me stop here so I could see you,” he explained. “The more immediate answer to your question is: the car,” he said, smiling down at you.

“You’re on the run? Still?” you asked, confused. “Even after the truth about Bucky came out?” he cringed minutely at the mention of his best friend’s name and your eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, we still violated the Sokovia Accords. We’re still wanted criminals. Bucky especially,” Steve explained.

“I don’t know, I think I’m pretty high on their shit list, too,” Wanda said from a few feet in front of you. You’d been so caught up in Steve’s presence you’d almost forgotten about her.

“We’ve been over this, Wanda, you’re not-” Steve said, starting what sounded like a very old and very tried conversation.

“I know, I know. I learned from my mistakes and did the best I could in a tough situation. Don’t need to repeat it all again,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at Steve. “Just stating facts,” she said, turning back to face the road in front of her.

You arrived at the car a moment later, piling into the backseat with Steve, letting Wanda take the wheel.

“Can you even drive, Wanda?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Well Nat taught me a little bit, but if there’s a problem I’ll just stop us from hitting anything with my powers,” she said, smiling at you in the rear-view mirror.

You and Steve exchanged worried glances, but she was already pulling out of the parking spot. You gave her your address and decided to leave that particular problem for later, hoping her powers and Steve’s reaction time would save you from any horrible would-be accidents. You turned to face Steve and you saw how he froze, Rosie reading his tense posture easily.

“Stevie?” you asked, tone serious. Usually calling him by that got him to relax a bit, but he didn’t budge. It made you worried all over again.

“Yes?” he asked, tone trying and failing to be casual.

“Bucky. Explain, now,” you demanded, crossing your arms.

“Which part?” he asked, grimacing.

“The most recent development that has you acting more squirrelly than defying the collective authority of nearly every nation in the world did,” you said, glaring at him.

“Ah, yeah, that part,” he said nervously, clasping his hands together.

You stared at him, unblinking. He sighed deeply and took your hand, which you stiffly allowed him.

“I suppose there’s no easy way to say it. Buck’s gone back into cryo,” he said. It looked like it was almost painful for him to keep eye contact with you while he said it.

“Cryo?” you asked, not understanding.

“Cryostasis. He’s frozen. He’s been in and out of it over the last seventy years he spent as The Soldier. I think the last two or so years were the longest he’d been out in a long time,” Steve explained as he watched you carefully.

“He… went back to being frozen? Of his own free will?” You said slowly, trying to process the new information.

Steve nodded slowly, not liking the way this seemed to be going. “There’s- There’s something else,” he said tentatively.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him, eyes hopeful. He braced himself for the inevitable tide of hurt his next words would cause.

Steve knew about what had happened between you and Bucky. His best friend had told him everything while sobbing. He hadn’t known for sure it was their Rosie, at first, but when he’d figured it out he hadn’t been able to end the relationship.

Steve didn’t blame him or hate him like Bucky was afraid he would, because Steve knew. He’d known for nearly eighty years.

Eighty years ago, back when Steve had been staying over at Bucky’s, he’d woken up to Bucky’s arm hitting him in his sleep. He reached to move it off of him and froze when he saw the letters. Bucky’d told him a few years ago what his soul brand said after Steve had shown him his own, excited after he’d found Rosie and her brand had his own initials. The initials Steve saw on Bucky’s left wrist now were the exact same on his own wrist. He held up his own wrist in comparison. R.A.F. glared up at him, the text on each the exact same. He knew soul brands tended to change fonts for different people. Some appeared scratchy and bold while others were thin and curly. The text on Steve’s wrist exactly matched that on Bucky’s wrist. It was an elegant, flowy, bold script.

He’d been unable to sleep the rest of the night, but vowed to never say anything about it to Bucky unless Bucky did first. He always kept a close eye on his best friend, always worrying about him. Steve wondered why Bucky didn’t want to shove them out of his life, but when Steve thought about how lonely he’d be without Bucky and Rosie, he’d understood.

He’d told Bucky as much when Bucky confessed everything to him. His friend had pulled him into a tight one-armed hug, his tears soaking Steve’s shirt as he murmured thank you’s.

 _“Take care of her, Stevie,”_ he’d said on the day he went into cryo in Wakanda. _“And… tell her one more thing.”_

“He… doesn’t want to be with you anymore,” Steve said, nearly unable to finish as your face fell and became almost emotionless by the time he’d finished. “… (Y/N)?” he asked, squeezing you hand tightly.

The comforting gesture was enough to break the spell of disbelief and you felt a sob tear through your body.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Steve sighed, face twisting in sorrow at the anguish you were clearly feeling. He pulled you from your seat and into his lap. He cradled your head to his chest and ran his fingers through your hair, murmuring comforting words into your hair as he placed gentle kisses on top of your head.

He wanted to explain further. Seeing you like this was killing him, but Bucky had been clear.

 _“Just that. Nothing else. No paraphrasing. It’s better this way. Promise me, Stevie,”_ he’d said.

And Steve had promised, seeing the desperation in his friend’s eyes.

It was a promise he was struggling to keep as you wailed into his chest.

“You’re lying,” you choked out between sobs.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but I’m not. I’d never lie to you. Not about this,” he whispered as he stroked your hair with one hand and your back with the other.

His touch was the only thing keeping you from falling apart at the seams.

“Why, Stevie?” you gasped, clutching his shirt tightly. You needed answers. Explanations.

[Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh](https://tmblr.co/Zj1kBx2AwGtL-)

“I don’t know, darling. He didn’t tell me and he wouldn’t explain,” he said, tone apologetic.

You looked up at him, heartbroken, and he cupped your face with his hand, wiping away your tears with his thumb. He gently kissed away the tears on your opposite cheek, just like Rosie used to do when they were kids. The gesture nearly brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It was unfair that you were comforted by these memories when they weren’t even yours.

“We’re here,” Wanda said quietly from the front seat. You looked out the window. Sure enough, you were parked a half a block away from your cafe and apartment.

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you somewhere safe and quiet,” he said as he opened the door and lifted you up one-handed, hand under your butt. You wrapped your arms around his neck to help steady yourself. He closed the car door before he placed his other arm firmly around your back.

“Through the back of the cafe,” you croaked. You placed your head on Steve’s shoulder and tried to stop crying. You didn’t want your staff to see you like this.

Oh god, your staff. They’d have a conniption if they saw you being carried in by Captain America, followed by the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda seemed to sense your sudden anxiety. “It’s alright, the people inside won’t see us. I’ll make sure their minds don’t acknowledge us,” she said, smiling slightly at you.

“Thank you,” you managed to squeak out just as Steve said “Thanks, Wanda.”

She smiled at the both of you and nodded as her eyes began to glow. Tendrils of red energy snaked out from her hands and through the door and windows. Steve opened the door and it was as though no one even heard it, or saw three people come walking brazenly through the middle of the shop.

“Cool place. Is this yours?” Wanda asked, smiling. It seemed like she was trying to cheer you up. You wished she wouldn’t. Her kindness reminded you of what had happened and made you want to cry again. You nodded your head, cheek brushing against Steve’s neck. “Nice,” she said, peering around as she followed Steve.

“Through here?” he asked, nodding his head towards the door in front of him.

You knew the shop well enough you didn’t have to turn around to check, simply nodding your head again instead. He opened the door with one hand, once again supporting you with the one for a moment before it returned to cradle you to his chest. He walked through the kitchen area and up the stairs that were shoved up against the back wall. He stopped at the top as he tried to open the door. It was locked.

“Got the keys, sweetheart?” he asked, peering down at you. You nodded, extracting one arm from around his shoulders to dig around in your pocket. You pulled them out numbly and unlocked the door. He opened it and stepped inside, Wanda trailing after you. You didn’t bother putting the keys back in your pocket, throwing them on the table beside the door. It took Steve only a moment to realize your bedroom had to be to the right. The only thing to your left was your tiny kitchen. He started walking down the hallway, pausing only slightly when Wanda spoke up.

“I’ll wait out here,” she said, smiling at you as she took a seat on your squishy sofa.

Steve nodded his head in acknowledgement of what she said and continued down the hall. He glanced in each doorway, passing the laundry room and bathroom before he finally found your bedroom. He nudged the door open with his foot, careful not to let any part of the door frame hit your body. He carried you over to the bed, deftly avoiding any particularly solid-looking things on the floor. You’d been so stressed you’d hardly bothered to clean while you’d been home. You might have been embarrassed if it wasn’t Steve and there weren’t bigger things on your mind.

He bent his knees, removing one hand to carefully pull back your blankets before he laid you down gently onto the bed. He walked to the other side, pausing to pull his shoes off at the foot of the bed, and crawled under the blankets next to you. He sat up against the headboard, reclining on some pillows, and pulled you against him. You sighed softly and rested your head against his chest. He raised his hand to run his fingers over your hair, the other held your hand, rubbing circles into the back of it with his thumb.

This was how he and Rosie used to lay together when they were younger and he’d been having nightmares. It was how he held her in the hospital when the nurses weren’t around.

“I’m not her,” you whisper. You had to tell him. Had to make him understand. But you were afraid. You couldn’t lose him after you just lost Bucky. You still loved Steve. You still loved them both so much.

“I know,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. You laid like that for a long time. You should have been crying, but your tear ducts wouldn’t listen. You wanted to cry. You wanted to rage and scream at the heavens and pull Bucky’s ass out of cryo and beat the sense back into him.

But you didn’t do any of those things. Instead you stared at the wall blankly, cocooned in the safety of Steve’s arms as he murmured loving, comforting things into your hair.

You looked inside of yourself, trying to assess the damage. You were shocked to find nothing there. You felt nothing.

Bucky hadn’t broken your heart, he’d obliterated it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You beg Steve to take you with him and, in turn, meet the rest of Team Cap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, fluff

[Originally posted by marveling-over-imagines](https://tmblr.co/Zsz1Fk1o4Qva6)

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until Wanda’s quiet voice woke you from the doorway.

“We have to leave, Steve. We’ve been here too long as is,” she said, apologetic.

“I know, Wanda. Just a little long-”

“You’re leaving? Now?” you asked, alarmed, as you sat up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It had gotten dark out while you’d been asleep. Light had been streaming in through your windows, filling your room with a warm glow when you’d first come in, but now shadows painted the walls of the neighboring buildings. It was dusk.

Steve looked down at you and frowned, regret clear on his face. “Sorry, darling. We can’t stay any place too long, least of all New York. This was only supposed to be a quick stop, anyway,” he said as he began untangling himself from the blankets and sheets.

“Please don’t go,” you whispered. You needed to reach out for him, make him stop, but your body wasn’t listening to your orders.

Something in your voice made him freeze. He pulled his arm from around you and cupped your chin with his fingers. “I can’t take you with me, (Y/N). It’s too dangerous,” he said, sorrow clear in his voice. This close, you could see the flecks of green in his captivating blue eyes.

You shook your head stubbornly, jaw set. “I want to go with you, Stevie. It’s my choice. I was in New York and D.C. I watched the videos of Sokovia. I know the kind of danger you get into. I don’t care,” you said as you took his hands in yours. You squeezed his fingers hard, willing him to understand. He didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to say something else, but you spoke before he could say anything.

“I can’t lose you, too. Not after everything that’s happened. I know you understand that. Please, Stevie,” you whisper, tears filling your eyes.

His face twisted in sadness. That had been a low blow and you knew it. Steve had dealt with your and Bucky’s deaths once before. His best friend and soul mate both gone before the age of 25, and he’d watched both times; you’d died from disease and Bucky had plummeted from that train in the mountains. He still probably blamed himself for Bucky.

Steve glanced at Wanda, who stood in the doorway, question clear on his face.

[Originally posted by littlemisssyreid](https://tmblr.co/ZU_u7q1nV2bre)

She looked between you and Steve before she sighed and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t care what you decide; It’s really your decision anyway. Just choose quickly,” she said, then walked back towards your sitting room.

“It’ll be dangerous,” he said, turning back to you. “I don’t know if I can keep you safe,” he said softly, worry clear in his voice. He wished you’d stay. You’d be safer here without him. But he knew how much you had to be hurting right now. He didn’t have it in him to leave you alone.

“I know,” you said, lip quirking into a tentative half smile as a tear slipped down your cheek. He gently wiped it away with his thumb and kissed you on the forehead.

“Get packed. We’ll leave in fifteen,” he said, finally extracting himself from the bed.

“Ten, Steve!” came Wanda’s voice from the living room.

“Ten, then. Need any help?” he said, extending his hand to help you up. You took it gladly, his warm, well-worn hand helping to keep you grounded. Now that you knew he wasn’t going to leave you, your heart felt lighter, even just a little bit.

You shook your head as you hopped off the bed, swaying slightly. His hand came down to steady you and he eyed you with concern. “I’m mostly packed already. Never really unpacked, actually,” you explained, trying to ignore the way he looked at you as though you were about to break.

“Alright, if you’re sure, I’ll be out in the sitting room with Wanda,” he said, giving you a peck on the cheek, which made you blush. He gave you a melancholy smile as he walked out of the room and went to join Wanda on your squishy couch.

* * *

Nine and a half minutes later you walked into your sitting room, bulging duffel slung over your shoulder, a dirty manila folder clutched at your side in your free hand. Wanda and Steve were already standing by the door. Steve smiled at you, taking your bag wordlessly. “Thanks,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Are we ready?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow at you and Steve.

“I have one last thing to do. You guys go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” you said, opening the door for them.

Steve seemed unsure and didn’t immediately follow Wanda down the stairs.

“It’s fine, Stevie. I’ll only be a minute, I promise,” you said as you clutched the manila folder to your chest.

He studied you for a moment before he nodded his head. “Alright, get outside as soon as possible. Wanda seemed nervous, which makes me nervous,” he said. You nodded in agreement, and he gave you one last smile before he closed the door. You could hear the stairs creaking under his weight as you opened up the manila folder in your hands and placed it on the small table next to your door. You grabbed the pen off the table and quickly flicked through the documents, signing your name and initialing wherever it told you to. With one last flourish of your pen you snapped the folder closed and grabbed the keys to your apartment. You yanked the door open and bounded down the stairs. You weren’t sure if it was luck or not, but Dean was in the back, likely getting ready to close down for the night.

“Dean!” you said, jogging up to him.

“Hey, what’s up, (Y/N)? When did you get back?” he asked, looking from you to the staircase that led to your apartment then back to you. He spotted the manila folder in your hands and the look of confusion on his face only grew.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said as you grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the nearest counter. You pulled out your pen and opened the manila folder. “Sign this here and here and initial here, here, and here,” you said, marking the spots you mentioned with x’s.

“What’s this all about, (Y/N)?” he asked, glancing from you to the papers.

“Trust me, please, Dean. I don’t have time to explain,” you said, desperate. You didn’t know how long Steve and Wanda would wait.

“Alright, alright,” he said, quickly filling out the paperwork.

You beamed up at him. “The cafe and apartment are yours now, Dean. For real, this time. The apartment’s been paid for till the end of the year,” you said. The look of delighted shock on his face was something you’d never forget.

“What? Wait, (Y/N)- What-!” he tried to get your attention, but you were already headed through the door to the cafe’s main room.

“Take good care of my damn cafe, Dean!” you yelled back to him. “You too, Tali, Kate!” you said, waving to them as you opened the door. Not understanding the situation they happily waved back, promising they would with _yes, ma’am!’_ s.

You stepped through the door, Dean hot on your heels, but when he stepped through the doorway and blinked against the light of the sun, it was like you’d vanished from right in front of him. He looked up and down the sidewalk in alarm, but you were nowhere to be found. A car came down the street and something about it caught Dean’s attention. He glanced at it and he swore he saw you waving at him through the back window, index finger over your lips in a conspiratorial smile. He also thought he saw Captain America throw him a salute from the seat beside yours in the back. Was that the Scarlet Witch driving?

Dean blinked rapidly, but, just like you had a moment ago, the car seemed to vanish; there one minute and gone the next.

 _“I trust Captain America,”_ came your voice in his memories. You’d said that a few days ago when he’d insulted the Winter Soldier and the Captain.

“Oh, you sly bitch,” he said, grinning. “You could have at least introduced me,” he said, laughing as he turned back to the cafe. _His cafe._ “Can’t even tell anyone that Captain America was in the damn place,” he groaned quietly, resigning himself to the fact that telling people Steve had been there would only cause problems. “Stay safe, Boss,” he whispered, throwing one last glance over his shoulder before he went back inside.

* * *

You made it out of the city and began traveling west. Steve dozed quietly in the seat next to you and you briefly considered joining him in his napping endeavors, but decided to try to get to know the other person in the car a little better, instead. You carefully clamored towards the passenger seat up front, deftly avoiding bumping Steve’s outstretched legs. Wanda watched you with amusement as you not-so-gracefully plopped down into the seat next to her.

“Hi,” you said lamely. You were careful to speak quietly so you wouldn’t wake Steve.

“Hi,” she said, smirking at you.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, peering at the road ahead of you. You were out of the big city now, so trees and residential areas lined the freeway.

“We’re meeting up with the rest of the guys, then we’re headed somewhere safe… Well, safer,” she informed you.

“’The rest of the guys’?” you asked, confused.

“Ah, yeah. The rest of the pariahs on the run from the combined might of the world’s governments. Scott, Sam, and Clint,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers.

“Clint is Hawkeye, right? And Sam is the Falcon?” you asked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said, smiling at you.

“I have no idea which one Scott is, though,” you said, racking your brain for a face to place the name to.

“New addition as of a few days ago. His alias is Ant-Man,” she said. You snorted and she grinned at you. “Yeah, I agree, not the best name, but he’s not someone to mess with. He can make himself so tiny he could kill you and you’d never see him coming… or he could make himself one hundred feet tall and squish you under his foot. Plus, he’s a good guy,” she said, chuckling at your stricken expression.

“Right, don’t cross Ant-Man. Got it,” you said, sighing as you leaned back in the seat.

She bit back a laugh, glancing into the back seat to make sure your conversation hadn’t woken Steve up. “No, they’re all softies. They’re excited to meet you, in fact. It’s not often Steve throws tactical logic to the wayside. There’s always a good reason for it, though,” she said, smiling softly at you. You felt your cheeks heat and looked out the window in lieu of facing her.

“We’re almost to the exit,” Steve said suddenly. You jumped at his deep voice, not expecting it.

“I know, I know. Stop backseat driving, grandpa,” Wanda said, turning on her blinker to merge into the right lane.

“Hey, I just want to make sure we don’t miss the exit. We don’t have time to turn around if we miss it,” he said leaning forward between the front seats. You turned to look at him and he smiled at you, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and you could tell he was trying to gauge how you were feeling. Not willing to disappoint him, you put on a brave smile.

“And whose fault is that?” Wanda asked, rolling her eyes as she turned off the freeway.

Steve winced slightly and turned to give Wanda an apologetic smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry about that,” he said amicably.

“Apology accepted,” she said, smirking at him. “They said they’d meet us at the Waffle House, right?” she asked, peering at the freeway sign that directed travelers to the nearest food and lodging.

“Yeah. Looks like it’s a left at the light,” Steve said, ducking his head to look at the sign through the windshield.

* * *

A few minutes later you pulled into the Waffle House parking lot. A few cars were parked here and there, but Wanda pulled up next to a large nondescript black SUV.

“Why is it always the large black SUV’s? Don’t you people realize they’re conspicuous in that they’re always thought to be inconspicuous?” you asked, looking at Wanda and Steve in exasperation.

Wanda laughed and Steve opened the door and hopped out, opening yours before you had the chance. Ever the gentleman, your Stevie.

“Actually, that’s our ride,” Steve said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder and you laughed.

“Nice one, Stevie,” you said, walking over to the black SUV.

“Uh, (Y/N)… I wasn’t joking,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Though I wish he was,” Wanda said, grimacing at the monstrosity Steve had pointed at.

Across the parking lot was an ugly, decrepit yellow and white van straight out of the mid 70′s. The paint was peeling at the bottom and you could tell from here the current paint job was hiding countless ones before it. You could still barely make out giant, loopy flowers all over the sides.

“Well, I suppose I’d never expect to find an Avenger in there,” you admitted, glaring at the van as though it had killed your dog.

Steve grabbed your bag out of the trunk of the car and together you, he, and Wanda walked over to the vehicular eyesore. Steve knocked on the double side doors, glancing around as he did so. You glanced over your shoulder, too, suddenly aware you were with the world’s most wanted people on earth. This wasn’t how you expected today to go.

“Password?” came a voice from inside, the source of which you could see moving behind the bright orange curtains that seemed to be on every window but the front three. The person who said it seemed to be going for a Gandalf-esque voice.

“Scott, is that you? Open up,” Steve said, shifting uncomfortably as he threw another look over his shoulder.

“Incorrect, try again,” said the voice again.

“Scott, it’s me, Wanda, and-” Steve began

“Man what are you doing? Open the damn door,” said a different voice.

“Hey, it could be a-” the voice’s protests stopped abruptly as the door swung open, squeaking horrifically.

“Shit, I need to oil that thing,” one of the men behind the door said. You recognized his voice as the one asking for a password.

“Man, you need to do a lot of things to this rust bucket. Maybe get your head checked while you’re at it, too, Tic-Tac,” said the second man.

“Scott. Sam,” Steve said in greeting, tossing the bag to the second man, who threw it behind him into the back of the van.

“Oh, hey, Cap. Wanda. You must be (Y/N). I’m Scott, AKA Ant-Man,” the first guy said, nodding his head in greeting. You nodded back, smiling slightly. You recognized the other Man as the Falcon; Sam Wilson.

“Move over, Scott,” Wanda said as she clambered into the van.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light inside and you laughed out loud. It was covered from top to bottom in atrocious orange shag carpet. Only the front two seats remained. The rest had been gutted to make room for a huge, equally orange and atrocious couch. A smaller loveseat behind the driver’s seat faced backwards. It was, at least, not orange. It was, instead, a hideous, stained zebra stripe pattern.

[Originally posted by casuallyhippie](https://tmblr.co/ZfbvHl1sFmFrq)

“You guys are running from the world government in a shaggin wagon?” you asked, hand clamped over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your giggles as you climbed into the van.

“Yeah, well, it was all we could get on short notice,” came a voice from the driver’s seat. “I’m Clint, by the way,” he said, extending a hand to you. You doubled over so your head wouldn’t hit the ceiling and shook his hand.

“I know. Nice to meet you, Hawkeye,” you said, winking at him. He beamed back at you.

“See? She knows who I am,” he said, inexplicably proud.

“Yes, we’re all very happy for you, Clint,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes as she sat down in the passenger seat. “Are you still upset about what T’Challa said?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No,” he said obstinately. He was clearly still upset.

“It’s okay, Clint. I still don’t think anyone on their team knows who I am,” Scott said, shooting Clint a commiserative look in the rear-view mirror.

“Thanks, Scott,” Clint said, grinning. “Are we all ready?” he asked as Steve hopped in after you and closed the doors.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Steve said, taking a seat on the bright orange couch. The van jolted as it came to life. The engine didn’t sound healthy and you wondered for a second if it would explode, but Clint shifted gears and soon it was rolling out of the Waffle House parking lot towards the main street.

You took a seat next to Steve on the couch, not entirely comfortable around the others yet. They seemed nice, just like Wanda said, but you weren’t up to snuff yet after everything that had happened today. You weren’t sure you ever would be, but Steve’s presence offered you some relative safety. There was a short scuffle for the Zebra seat, which Scott lost. Sam plopped down in it, looking superior as Scott sat dejectedly down on the floor.

“Better luck next time, Tic-Tac,” Sam said, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“You say that, but I’m pretty sure those stains should be considered bio hazards,” Scott said, smirking up at Sam, who suddenly looked much less pleased with himself.

“Sorry for showing up so late,” Steve said, scratching the back of his neck guiltily.

“Don’t sweat it Steve. You still had a half hour to spare,” Sam said, throwing his friend a grin.

“Yeah, and now it’s obvious why you arrived so much later than we expected,” Clint said from the driver’s seat. You saw him glance at you and Steve and wink to the blond beside you. You glanced at Steve out of the corner of your eye and smiled. His cheeks were distinctly tinged pink.

“Gear safe in the back?” Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder, eager for a change of topic.

“Yup, loaded it all myself,” Clint said as he turned onto the freeway. “Did you stay out of sight in New York?” he asked, glancing at Steve and Wanda.

“Define ‘out of sight’,” Wanda said, grimacing.

“Really, guys?” Clint asked, exasperated.

“Wanda made sure no one noticed us,” Steve said defensively.

“Do her powers work on street cameras now, too?” Clint asked.

“Well I short-circuited the ones I noticed. But no, I can’t guarantee I fried all of them. It’s why I made sure Steve didn’t dawdle any longer than necessary,” Wanda explained.

“Well, what’s done is done. We’ll just have to hope Tony and Nat still like us enough to keep the government off our trail long enough for us to get underground,” Clint said as he urged the van into a legal freeway speed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly.

“Hey, now. This isn’t your fault. It’s that big blond idiot’s next to you,” Sam said as he crossed his arms and smirked at Steve.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said sarcastically, grinning back at Sam.

“No problem, man,” Sam said, grinning.

“How far out are we?” Scott asked Clint from where he laid on the floor.

“If you ask me ‘are we there yet’ I swear I’ll kick you out of this car while it’s speeding down the freeway,” Clint threatened.

Wanda snorted. “Does it count as speeding if we’re only going-” a pause as she checked the speedometer “- 53?”

“Yeah, I think I’d probably survive that. It might not even hurt,” Scott said, brows furrowed as he, presumably, played the situation out in his head.

“Not the point, Scott,” Clint said, sighing.

“Looks like we’re about eight hours out,” Wanda said, looking up from the road map you’d only just noticed.

“A physical map? Why are you traveling so low tech?” you asked, eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, right. Can I see your phone?” Steve said, holding out a hand.

“Which one?” you asked, pulling them both out of your pockets.

“Both, actually,” Steve said as he took them from you and threw them up to Wanda, who caught them with her powers. She rolled down the window with one of her hands and you enjoyed the fresh air for about .3 seconds before Wanda crushed both of your phones and threw them out of the window into the roadside brush.

“What-” you began, shocked.

“Tracking devices, built in GPS, all that shit,” Scott said. Sam nodded along as he spoke.

“Yeah, but why my-” you began again.

“There’s a chance there’s footage of you with us. Of your own accord. Can’t risk your phones being tracked,” Wanda said, smiling apologetically at you as she rolled up the window.

You let out a long sigh, wiping a hand over your face in exasperation. “Fine, fine. I understand,” you said as you leaned back into the lumpy orange couch.

“Hey, how did you find Steve in Berlin, anyway?” Sam asked, leaning forward to stare at you.

You squirmed at the sudden attention as everyone but Clint turned to look at you. Even Steve looked at you expectantly.

“Well, uh, you see- that’s a funny story-”

* * *

An hour later you’d told them about everything that had happened to you starting from the Battle of New York. You made them promise to keep their questions till the end.

“You mean you fought off those Chitauri bastards with two teenage baristas?” Clint asked, clearly impressed.

“And a small army’s worth of ammo,” you said, embarrassed.

“Huh,” Scott said eloquently, looking at you with newfound respect.

“You were the one who found Steve on the riverbank in D.C. after everything had gone to shit?” Sam asked.

“I just stumbled onto him by accident,” you said, cheeks heating as you remembered him latching onto you as though he was still drowning. You realized now the man you’d seen leaving the clearing was Bucky. Steve seemed to sense your tempestuous emotions because he reached over to hold your hand in his. The gesture wasn’t something the rest of the team missed, but they didn’t say anything.

Instead, Scott spoke up. “Wait you really didn’t know you’d been hanging out with the Winter Soldier? His face was plastered all over the news,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I, ah, don’t watch the news much. I was pretty busy moving during the time the news about D.C. was airing.” You had more to say, but you couldn’t do it. Even thinking about Bucky was starting to bring back that dark feeling in your heart. You squeezed Steve’s hand. It was, once again, the only thing keeping you grounded. He realized you were starting to spiral so he pulled you into his lap, hugging you to his chest.

If you were able to see anything but Steve’s broad chest you’d see the matching looks of surprise on Scott and Sam’s faces. Wanda had already seen Steve act like that around you, so she wasn’t surprised, and Clint nodded his head as though a question he had had just been answered.

“Wanna take a nap, Dollface?” he asked, the nickname he and Bucky used for Rosie slipping out.

If you noticed, you didn’t show it. You nodded, cheek rubbing against his chest. He smiled and cradled you in his arms as he stood, careful not to hit his head on the van’s low ceiling, and placed you gently down on the couch. You reached out and grabbed his hand, pleading with your eyes for him to stay within reach, not wanting to say it aloud around so many strangers. He smiled sadly down at you and sat in front of the couch and leaned up against it. He sat close to your head, slightly blocking your face from view of the others. You threw an arm over his shoulder and he reached up and held onto your hand, rubbing your palm gently with his thumb.

You fell asleep more quickly than you thought you would. Your mind seemed to choose to knock itself out rather than have another breakdown and you didn’t feel like fighting it on its choice, the gentle sway of the van helping to lull you to sleep.

* * *

**Steve’s POV**

Steve didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know you’d fallen asleep. Your grip on his hand had loosened and your breathing had evened out, but he continued to rub your palm gently.

“There’s more, isn’t there? Stuff she left out?” Sam asked quietly, eyeing the way you and Steve sat together.

Steve let out a sigh. “Yeah, there is,” he said quietly, not wanting to wake you.

[Originally posted by lovelynemesis](https://tmblr.co/ZVOuzi2P7QLA4)

“Wanna start with… this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the two of you.

Steve sighed, glancing back at you before he gently released your hand. You frowned a little in your sleep but otherwise didn’t stir. Steve pulled back his left sleeve and held it out for the others to see.

“Your… brand? RAF? What does that have to do with anything? Those aren’t even her initials,” Scott said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“No, they’re not. But they were,” he said, frowning. Comprehension dawned on Scott, Sam, and even Wanda’s face from where she sat in the front seat, listening in on the conversation.

“You mean she’s the reincarnation of this RAF?” Sam asked, stunned.

“Rose Alice Foster was her name back then. We met when we were five. I knew the second I saw her she was my soul mate. Still, we didn’t show each other our brands right away. We were both scared they might not match, y’know? But when we were eight Rosie convinced me, and, sure enough, they matched.

“She loved reading. She’d read while I’d draw. Bucky would join us sometimes and read comics. She loved lilacs and hated celery. She was fascinated by cars and technology; it was her dream to meet Howard Stark,” he said, his gaze eighty years in the past as he reminisced.

After a moment his gaze darkened. “She was always kind of unwell. She had a lot of health problems, like I did, back before the serum. But hers were worse, and by thirteen she had trouble going outside. She couldn’t go to school anymore for risk of catching something and getting even sicker. By fourteen she was in the hospital year-round. For two years I watched as she lost the fight to the diseases that ate away at her until she finally passed in her sleep the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her family, Bucky, and I had had a get-together in her hospital room for her birthday. She didn’t even have the energy to blow out the candles on her cake. Bucky and I did it for her. Her parents had smiled as they cried, not wanting to make her sad, too,” he said, staring at the ground. Eighty years hadn’t done anything to soften the pain of that time.

There was a long pause. “Jesus, Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge all of that up,” Sam said, voice solemn.

“It’s alright, Sam. I know you didn’t,” Steve said, giving Sam a sad half smile.

“There’s still more, isn’t there?” Wanda said, eyes searching Steve’s.

Steve let out a year’s worth of sighs. “Yeah, there is,” he said.

“You don’t have to-” Scott began but Steve shook his head.

“But I should. I think it’s better you guys understand what’s going on so you don’t say anything to set her off accidentally, but I think it’s too painful and fresh for her to say it herself,” he said, taking a deep breath. His team members frowned, but they trusted his decision.

“Back when we were ten or so I was staying over at Bucky’s house. In the middle of the night I woke up to Bucky hitting me in his sleep. I moved his arm off of me but not before I noticed his soul brand. I’d never seen Bucky’s brand because he just told me what it said, instead. I remember he told me it was ‘HRL.’ That was a lie. On Bucky’s left wrist was an exact copy of the letters on my wrist,” Steve said.

The was a collective gasp from the others. “I’ve… never heard about that happening before,” Wanda said, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

“Me neither,” Scott said, confused.

“I hadn’t either at the time. I never said anything to him about it. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I didn’t want Rosie to lose hers, either. Bucky meant as much to us as we meant to him, I think. Still, a part of me always wondered why he never cut us out of his life. It must have been painful. A lesser man would have been broken by it, I think. But not Bucky. He was with me, no matter what happened. Always there to help me, especially after Rosie passed. He was the only other one who understood how much she meant to me,” Steve said, glancing back at you. He smiled softly and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. Your frown lessened slightly as you slept.

“Hell, I think I owe that stupid tin man an apology… and a beer,” Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Steve nearly let out a chuckle at that. “If I knew all it took to get you two on good terms was to tell you about our tragic pasts I would have sat you down for story time a long time ago, Sam,” Steve said, smirking.

“Oh shut up, Steve,” Sam said, smiling, and turned his head away, waving a hand dismissively.

“She wasn’t just hanging out with him in Bucharest, was she?” Scott asked from his spot on the ground. Sam gave him a swift kick in the side. “Ow! Dude!” he protested.

Sam gave him a distinct _what the fuck_ gesture, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

After a second they both turned their attention back to Steve, who stared at the ground. After a moment he shook his head slowly, mouth pulled in a tight line.

“Man, you’re not even mad at him, are you?” asked Sam resignedly.

“How could I be? He loved her just as much as I did. Should I hate him for falling in love with her again? Should I hate _her_ for falling in love with _him_?” Steve asked, heart heavy.

After a moment Sam let out a long sigh. “Fine, fine. I still don’t like it, though,” he said, crossing his arms.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Clint cut him off. “We’re getting off at this exit for food and supplies. We could really use your girl’s help, Steve. She’s much less conspicuous than us,” Clint said, glancing at your sleeping form in the rear-view  mirror.

“No, I’m not putting her in danger like that,” Steve said obstinately. Something in his voice roused you from your sleep. You let out a small noise of discontent as you sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes. You stretched, grimacing. There was a horrible crick in your neck.

“Wuzz goin’ on?” you asked eloquently, glancing around the van.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty,” Sam said cheerily. Scott gave you a little wave which you returned absentmindedly.

“Wanna go shopping?” Clint asked from the front seat.

“Clint,” Steve said, warning clear in his voice.

“Shopping? For what?” you asked, glancing between Clint and Steve.

“Food and supplies, mostly,” Clint said, smiling.

“Clint-” Steve began again.

“It’s a shopping trip, Steve. Not a mission to break into the Pentagon. It’ll be okay,” Clint argued as he pulled off of the freeway.

“If anything happens, we’re better equipped to deal with it,” Steve argued.

“Wait, I have an idea that’ll make everyone happy,” Scott piped up from the ground.

“Well, let’s hear it, Tic-Tac,” Sam said, eager to end the bickering.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team gets to their temporary hideout; Clint's house. You and Steve get closer, bridging some of the awkwardness between you... before creating even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, fluff
> 
> A/N: Did someone say road trip chapter? I heard road trip chapter. Apparently this is a road trip AU with team Cap now. I swear it’ll go back to normal soon?

[Originally posted by littlemisssyreid](https://tmblr.co/ZU_u7q1vCvodU)

It turned out Scott’s bright idea was shrinking down and accompanying you to the store. Steve had begrudgingly agreed to the compromise, and now you were inside the nearest store, perusing the aisles.

“You should get one of those,” said Scott from his perch on your shoulder.

“One of what?” you mumbled, trying to move your mouth as little as possible.

“One of those triple tiered chocolate cakes on display over there,” he said.

You glanced around, unable to see where he was pointing. Sure enough, there were some scrumptious-looking cakes on sale on a display table in the middle of the aisle. “I’m not getting a cake, Scott,” you hissed. “Would you place focus on keeping lookout?” you pleaded, smiling at a woman who gave you a funny look. You didn’t blame her. You looked completely crazy.

“Fine, fine. But you should still get the cake,” Scott insisted.

“Do you want me to flick you off my shoulder? I _will_ flick you off my shoulder,” you threatened.

“Alright, alright. Geez. I get it, no cake,” Scott said, clearly put out.

You sighed. “If I get you a slice from the bakery, will you be happy?” you asked, glancing down at the speck on your shoulder.

“Yes, that would be very nice, and I’d appreciate it very much” he said with what you could tell was forced calm.

“Alright, fine. We’ll grab it before we leave,” you said, happy to have come to an agreement.

“Hell yeah, cake!” he yelled, whooping for joy on your shoulder.

“Shh!” you hissed, blood draining from your face as everyone around you turned to look at you.

“Shit, sorry,” Scott whispered.

“Let’s get out of here asap,” you whisper, quickly grabbing the last few things on Clint’s shopping list. On the way out you grabbed a piece of the chocolate cake Scott wanted; it came in a convenient little plastic box. You paid quickly with the cash Clint had given you and exited the store hastily, avoiding eye contact all the way back to the van. Scott whispered apologies the entire way.

Once inside, Scott returned to his normal size and proceeded to grovel on the shag carpet.

“Scott, it’s alright. Let’s just get out of here,” you said, running a hand over your face.

“What happened?” Steve asked, alarmed.

“I got a little too excited about cake,” Scott explained before he returned to apologizing.

“We should leave. Now. Just in case,” you said to Sam, who was sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Say no more, little lady,” Sam said as he turned the engine over; It sounded a little less awful this time, at least.

“I’m still a little confused. What is this about cake?” Wanda asked, glancing between you and Scott.

“I promised to buy him cake, and he was so happy he yelled. It was really awkward. People stared,” you explained, sighing.

“Did you at least get everything on my list?” Clint asked from his spot on the zebra chair.

“Yeah, Clint. It’s all in there,” you said, motioning to the bags on the floor.

“Sweet. Do you want to learn how to make a Molotov cocktail?” Clint asked, rifling through the bags.

“Hell yeah,” you said at the same time Steve said “Clint, no!”

[Originally posted by hazohazahazbro](https://tmblr.co/Zb7X3j2LUpFlg)

* * *

One very fun chemistry lesson and a state border later, you were relaxing on the couch with Wanda. Scott was in a sugar coma on the floor, Sam was driving with Clint co-piloting, and Steve was dozing in the zebra chair (the sight of which made you laugh; he was definitely too big for that horrid chair). The fresh batch of explosives sat in a box away from anything prone to sparking or catching fire.

“So, what, you don’t hate Tony Stark? Even after all that?” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the guys.

“Well, I got a lot of my feelings out during our fight at the airport. I dropped a parking garage full of cars on him. That helped a lot,” she said, smirking.

“Ha, nice,” you said, smirk breaking out on your face as you nodded your approval.

“To answer your question seriously, though… I’m not sure. It wasn’t him who dropped the bomb on my family. You don’t blame a gun manufacturer when someone is shot, you know? It took a long time for me to think about it that way. I still struggle sometimes.

“And with Ultron… He never meant to create that. A sentient machine, yes, but not a psychopathic murderer. I think if he had known how evil Ultron would be, he would have at least been more careful about it,” she said, tilting her head as she thought about it. “My brother would still be alive, but we’d still be with Hydra, and Vision wouldn’t exist. Life is full of twists and turns, unforeseen consequences. I believe that Tony Stark has the best intentions. I know he wants to protect humanity; I saw it for myself when I read his mind. It’s just the execution he has trouble with,” she said, sad smile painting her features.

“So what you’re saying is that he’s a chronic failure with good intentions?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

She considered it for a moment. “Yeah, that about sums it up,” she said, chuckling.

“Same idea with the Sokovia Accords, I’m guessing?” you asked. You were startled at how quickly her face darkened.

“Ah, yes. The Accords. I thought about signing them, you know. I thought that maybe it would make people less afraid of me, but it took help from some friends to realize that signing a piece of paper wouldn’t change that,” she said, grinning at Clint who was in the passenger seat, talking to Sam. “Told me it was time to get off my ass, too,” she said, snorting.

You chuckled, glancing from Clint to Wanda. “Clint said that? I guess I can believe that,” you whispered, smirking at the older man.

To your surprise he turned to look you dead in the eye. Had you been talking loudly? You could have sworn you were quiet enough that only Wanda could hear you.

He used his index finger and middle finger, pointed at his eyes, then turned them on you in a classic _I’m keeping my eyes on you motion_ , glaring good-naturedly at you for good measure. He smirked and turned back to Sam, continuing to give him directions.

You turned to Wanda, eyes wide, and she hurried to cover her laugh with her hand. “He can read lips,” she explained between giggles.

“Of course he can,” you groaned and leaned back into the couch.

Wanda covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles. It failed and you looked away, refusing to make eye contact with her. Something caught your eye when you glanced at Steve.

Your head whipped back to him and your brows knit together in confusion. He looked… upset? It seemed like he was still asleep; his head was lolling to one side. It looked somewhat uncomfortable. His brows were creased, though, and he kept twitching slightly every few seconds, as though he was trying to shake something off.

“Bad dreams…” Wanda whispered beside you, frowning at Steve’s sleeping form.

You knew she was right. When Steve was a kid he’d had bad dreams all the time. You should have recognized the signs sooner. Without thinking consciously about it, you stood, stepped carefully over Scott, and placed a hand gently on Steve’s cheek.

“Stevie, wake up. It’s a nightmare,” you whispered quietly, other hand shaking his shoulder gently. His eyes snapped open, locking on yours immediately. You could tell he wasn’t completely awake, and the sight of you didn’t seem to help bring him back to complete consciousness.

“Thanks for waking me, Rosie,” he said, smiling blearily at you. To your surprise, he pulled you into his lap, arms clutching you to his vast chest. Your eyes widened in shock and you struggled fruitlessly to try and look at Wanda, wanting to get her help, but it was impossible to move in his iron-like embrace. Unable to get anyone’s attention for help and not willing to wake Steve up from what was likely the only amount of sleep he’d gotten recently, you resigned yourself to your fate and drifted off to sleep in his arms. Truly, there were much worse places to be.

* * *

“Wake up, sweetheart. We’re here,” came a voice in your ear.

“Five mo’ minz, Stevie” you mumbled, burying your face deeper into the warm surface you were sleeping on. It took your half asleep mind a moment to realize you were sitting up, not laying down. You opened one eye and immediately closed it again. It was much too light out for you to want to open your eyes, much less actually wake up. You tried again, this time keeping it narrowed to a slit. You thought for a moment you’d been teleported into an alternate dimension where everything was a horrid shade of orange. You slowly opened your eyes more and blinked blearily up at Steve.

[Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh](https://tmblr.co/Zj1kBx2NZ9ltx)

“Hey there, sunshine. How’d you sleep?” he asked, smiling down at you. His smile was infectious and you couldn’t even muster up the anger at being woken up at what you were sure was an ungodly hour. You smiled back at him, and your still-half asleep mind didn’t think twice about reaching up and giving him a gentle peck on the lips, eyes closing as you smiled against his lips.

“Mornin, Stevie,” you mumbled, sitting back, grin plastered on your stupid, oblivious face. When he didn’t respond or even move, you opened your eyes and looked at him in confusion. He was staring down at you, shock clear on his face, and it took you a second to realize why. Your eyes widened in horror and you quickly hopped off of his lap. “I’m- I’m sorry. Shit-” you mumbled, quickly jumping out of the van’s open doors. You jogged forward, not caring where your feet took you so long as it was away from Steve and any guilty feelings you had because of how you felt about him.

“Wait, (Y/N),” he said, surprising you when he grabbed your arm. He was strong, but his grip was surprisingly gentle; almost tender. You looked down at the ground, unwilling to face him yet. You were afraid of what he would say.

“We’re going to be here for a few days. It’s a safe house. Tony and Nat know it’s here, but they’d never tell anyone about it. We’ll be safe here. You should go get cleaned up and get breakfast, if you want,” Steve said, beckoning to the southern-style house you hadn’t noticed before. You saw Wanda, Clint, Sam, and Scott on the porch talking to a pretty woman with long dark hair, two kids clinging to her legs, staring up at the ragtag group in awe.

“Where are we?” you asked, purposefully looking at them instead of Steve.

“Clint’s house, actually. Those are his wife and kids the others are talking to. She had a baby recently, actually. He must be inside,” Steve said, fondness for the family seeping into his voice.

“Hawkeye has a wife? And kids?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight in front of you.

Steve snorted. “Yeah, surprised the rest of the Avengers, too. Kept it a damn good secret. I think only Natasha knew for a long time. He wouldn’t bring us here if he had any other choice, though. We’re only staying a few days so we don’t put them in any danger,” he explained, finally releasing your arm.

“Because he’s a criminal now,” you said, face darkening with anger.

Steve sighed. “Yeah. We’re all criminals now,” he said glancing at you worriedly.

“It’s not fair,” you said, turning away from Steve and the others to glare off into the distance. You would have glared a hole through the world government if you could, but alas; they weren’t around and neither was Tony Stark.

Steve thought for a moment before responding. “I know. But I don’t regret anything, and neither do Sam, Clint, Scott, or Wanda. I don’t think the others regret much of what they did, either. We all fought for what we thought was right, and eventually the truth came to light, for better or for worse,” he said, lip quirking up at the corner in a sad smile.

Thoughts of recent events brought you back to one place: Bucky. You shook your head vigorously as though it would help you clear your thoughts. It didn’t.

“I think I’ll take your suggestion and go get cleaned up,” you said, smiling in his direction but not meeting his eyes. Maybe it had been a mistake coming here. You’d only end up hurting Steve at this rate, and it was the last thing you wanted to do. He deserved better than that, but the guilt you felt overwhelmed most of your other feelings.

You walked towards the house, not looking back no matter how much you wanted to. You knew what you’d see; he’d have a frown on his face, worry creasing his brow. You wished he wouldn’t worry for you; of the two of you, he definitely deserved the concern more.

* * *

Laura and Clint were gracious hosts. They showed you the way to the guest room and you quickly took a shower, wanting to rid yourself of forty year old van smell as fast as possible.

You got two whole steps out of the shower before you realized you weren’t alone in the guest room. Steve was frozen in his chair next to the small desk in the corner.

Your eyes widened in horror as you attempted to wrap the towel all the way around yourself. You’d only left it draped over your front, held in place with one hand, thinking you didn’t have to worry about anyone coming in the room. In your haste, you dropped your dirty clothes on the floor and reached over to pick them up with both hands. Realizing a second too late you hadn’t tucked it in, it came open, revealing your entire front to the whole room.

“Fucking hell,” you hiss, quickly wrapping your towel around yourself again, tucking it into itself so it’d stay closed this time. You grabbed your clothes and tossed them on top of your bag that Sam had been nice enough to bring up for you earlier. You could feel the heat in your cheeks, neck, and ears and slowly raised your eyes to meet Steve’s.

He had his hand over his eyes, but even that wasn’t enough to hide the fact that he was as red as a tomato.

“How much did you…?” you asked, dreading his answer.

He peeked at you with one eye from between his fingers. Once he deemed it mostly safe he lowered his hand a little bit so he could look at you with both eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I lied?” he asked, unsure and clearly embarrassed.

“Not after that comment, no. Not really,” you said, groaning.

“I’ll just go-” he said, moving to get up.

You held a hand up to stop him, other clutching the towel for dear life. “No, it’s alright,” you said, wincing as you relived the entire thing in your head for the fifth time since it had happened fifteen seconds ago.

“I’ll just… close my eyes, then?” he said, question clear in his tone.

You simply nodded your head, unwilling to trust your stupid brain to not say something stupid after that debacle.

“Alright,” he said, nodding, as he closed his eyes and placed a hand over them for good measure.

You quickly dug through your bag, pulling out whatever was both clean and closest to the top, not wanting to make Steve wait.

After a moment you were fully clothed, dirty clothes in a neat pile next to your bag. You looked down at yourself and groaned internally. You’d chosen a low cut tank and a pair of short workout shorts.

“Okay, it’s safe,” you told Steve, eyes glued to the floor.

You heard him shift in his chair as he opened his eyes. “I should have said something,” he said, voice apologetic. “I just didn’t expect you to…” he trailed off, unwilling to say it, color returning to his cheeks as he looked at you.

Your eyes snapped up to his, horrified. “You just startled me is all! I should have taken a change of clothes into the bathroom. We’re all crammed into this house; I should have assumed someone would come in this room,” you said, not wanting Steve to blame himself.

“Ah, yeah. About that…” he said, running a hand through his hair. You recognized the nervous tick immediately.

“What is it, Stevie?” you asked, suddenly suspicious.

“This is going to be our room while we’re here,” he said. It was as though he was talking about defusing a bomb, his tone was so tense and delicate.

“What.”

“With Nathaniel’s nursery taking up an entire room, they only have one guest room. This one. The others thought you’d feel most comfortable with me, so Laura told me to share the room with you while we’re here. I, uh, told them Wanda might be a better fit, but they insisted,” he said. It seemed he was unable to look away from you, studying your face closely.

Your mind was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to process what he’d just said. You looked dumbly from him to the bed and back. Then back to the bed. The Queen-sized bed. Then back to Steve.

“There’s only one bed,” you said once you were sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, hiding a second bed from your consciousness.

“I know. It’s yours. I don’t sleep in beds very often anyway. Too soft,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

“You’re going to sleep on the ground?” you asked, surprised. The Stevie Rosie knew had loved her soft bed, never willing to leave it unless he had to, though he’d never admit it.

He chuckled. “Yeah, habit I picked up from the war. Beds are just too soft after you get used to sleeping on anything and everything,” he said eyes far away.

That explained why you didn’t know about this habit. It was after Rosie’d died. You wondered what else you didn’t know about Steve.

“You don’t have to,” you said, words coming out before you could stop them.

His eyes suddenly focused back on you, brows knitting together in confusion and… was that hope? Your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

“I mean, I’m not going to force you to sleep on the ground if you don’t want to,” you explained quickly. “I’m not heartless,” you said, eyes darting from his face to the floor and back.

“I appreciate that, (Y/N),” he said, smiling sincerely at you.

His smile chased away nearly all of the embarrassment and doubts from a moment before, leaving you feeling calm and safe. “What were you doing, though? While I was in the bathroom?” you asked, glancing over his shoulder at the desk behind him.

“Oh, drawing. It-”

“Helps you think,” you said, nodding, at the same time he said “Helps me think.”

He beamed up at you and you felt your heart flutter.

“You wanna see it?” he asked pointing his thumb at the sketch pad behind him.

“Of course,” you said, grinning. He beckoned you over, flipping a page or two back in the pad until he found the one he was looking for.

Turned out it was multiple sketches.

“These are…?” you asked, looking on in awe at the detail he put into his drawings.

“The team. The whole team, including Thor and Banner, who’ve been conspicuously MIA,” he said, smiling at you as you studied his drawings.

You snorted when you got to Stark. “You captured him perfectly. I can feel the bravado through the paper,” you said, smirking down at the tiny Drawing Stark. Your eyes traveled to the others on the page. The first one held Pietro, Natasha, Bruce, and Thor. The next held Clint, Sam, Scott, and Wanda.

You flipped the page. Steve made a move to stop you, but he was too engrossed in your reaction to realize what was happening until it was too late. Your stopped breathing. Your mind barely registered Rhodey, Vision, and Thor on the page, too enthralled at the drawing of _him_ to pay them too much mind. There, staring up at your from the page in perfect pencil recreation, was Bucky. It was a Bucky somewhere between the one Rosie knew and the one you knew now. He had your Bucky’s long hair and stubble, but had Rosie and Steve’s Bucky’s winning smile and sparkling eyes. Every time you’d seen that light in his eyes over the last two years, it was quickly extinguished by some unknown force and you wouldn’t see it again for weeks.

“(Y/N)?” Steve asked, voice deadly quiet.

You jumped, startled by his voice, thoughts years and a lifetime away. Steve closed the sketch pad and placed a hand on your arm and gently squeezed. The sensation was enough to break you out of the lingering remnants of your reverie and you forced a smile onto your face.

“Those are amazing, Steve,” you said, motioning to the notebook. “I’m going to go see if Laura needs any help around the house,” you said, turning to sprint out the door before Steve could stop you.

* * *

[Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh](https://tmblr.co/Zj1kBx2AwGtL-)

**Steve’s POV**

His arm dropped to his side as he watched you run out the door, unable to get away from him fast enough.

“You’re an idiot, Steve,” he groaned, slamming his arms down on the desk, burying his head in his hands. The desk rattled ominously, but Steve only spared it a cursory glance. He ran his fingers through his hair angrily. He’d forgotten Bucky had been one of those sketches. He’d needed a cover, and fast, unwilling to show you what he’d really been working on. He pulled the small notebook out of his pocket and put it on top of the larger sketch pad. He flicked it open to where he’d been working last and sighed. You stared up at him, half finished, brilliant smile on your face. He’d started it while you’d been chatting with Wanda, too distracted by whatever the two of you’d been talking about to notice his doodling. He stared at it a few moments more before he flicked to the front of the book. The very first page contained the sketch of Rosie, the other of Peggy. He stared at the both of them before he heaved out a sigh and tucked the booklet back into his back pocket. He’d really put his foot in it now.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make up with Steve and learn more about your past life. Steve's nightmares trouble him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, fluff

[Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain](https://tmblr.co/ZzVdmj2MQxfSJ)

**Your POV**

Orange light from the sunset streamed in the window as you tackled the dishes from dinner, effectively avoiding the rest of the household.

“You should talk to him, you know.”

You turned to look at Laura, who was staring at you expectantly.

“Oh, not you too,” you griped, sighing as you placed another clean plate onto the drying rack.

“He’s looked like a lost puppy since you arrived this morning. I don’t know for sure what happened between you two, but I see the way he looks at you…” She said, eyeing you. You felt like she was x-raying you; Her way her eyes seemed to see straight through you.

You sighed, turning off the sink’s faucets, and turned around to face her. You propped your arms up on the counter behind you and leaned your lower back against it.

“How much do you know about me and Steve?” you asked, wary.

“Clint may have told me a few things. Not that Steve was completely forthcoming with all the details, though; I don’t think he told the team everything, Clint included. But, even with my husband’s keen eye, there are some things I still see better than him,” she said grinning.

You snorted at that, rolling your eyes, then sobered. “We were all together in my past life; Did you know that? Me, Bucky, and Steve? But I fucked up. I was dating his best friend for the last year, and I didn’t even know it was Bucky. I’d always hoped a little bit, y’know? That Bucky was somehow alive? That I was able to spend time with him again? I think I always loved Bucky, even in my previous life, but Steve was always the one for me. But I walked over everything Steve and I had together, treated it like dirt… I didn’t even call and let him know I found someone who looked exactly like our Bucky… And look what happened. If I had just-”

“Don’t start playing the ‘if’ game. That’s a rabbit hole you should never go down.” Laura chastised, taking one of your hands in hers. “I do have one question, though,” she said tentatively.

“Shoot,” you said solemnly.

“Why did you run from Steve? I know you ran into him in DC, but surely you recognized him before that? What kept you from reaching out?” She asked meekly, studying you closely.

A single laugh left your lips. It was a bitter sound.

“Because I didn’t want to hurt him. Have you ever heard of a situation like mine? Meeting your former life’s soul mate in your next life, but they’re just as young as they were in your past life?” you asked, raising a critical eyebrow at her.

She shook her head slowly. “No, I suppose not,” she said, sad smile lining her features as she considered what you said.

“I’m not her, Laura. I may have her memories and I probably share some of her personality traits, but I’m not her. I never will be. Rosie died in the thirties. She’s never coming back. Not really. How am I supposed to face Steve and know that, to him, I’ll always just be the ghost of the girl he loved more than anything else? How could I put him through that?” you asked, torment clear in your voice. “And then with what happened with Bucky in Bucharest-”

Laura pulled you in for a sudden hug, a small noise of surprise leaving your lips. “You need to have more faith in Steve, hun,” she said, leaning back to peer at you. “I think he needs you. And if I’m not mistaken, I think you need him, too,” she said, smiling at you sadly, and reached up and wiped away a tear you hadn’t realized you’d shed. “Don’t shut him out, alright?”

You nodded your head slowly. “Alrigh’,” you agreed, giving Laura a brave smile. Inside, you were still in turmoil. She was probably right, but it didn’t make swallowing your guilt any easier.

She smiled back at you then turned to face the sink, hands on her hips. “If we work together we’ll knock these dishes out in no time,” she said. She was in the middle of rolling up her sleeves when the front door opened. You both whirled, on high alert, but it was only Steve. He looked from you to Laura, alarmed at your reactions, but a shy smile appeared on his face a moment later.

“Sorry for startling you,” he said, sheepish. “I’ll just… go,” he said, turning to head to the sitting room.

“Actually, Steve, your timing is perfect. I need to go check on Nathaniel and I’d feel awful leaving (Y/N) to tackle this mountain of dishes on her own. Could you help her? Please?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at Steve.

You looked at Laura in alarm. You weren’t expecting this to happen so suddenly. You didn’t have time to prepare yourself. You didn’t know what to say.

“No, it’s alright I can handle this,” you said quickly, before Steve could say anything, giving Laura a wide-eyed _what the hell_ look that Steve couldn’t see. She simply smiled broadly back at you, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I’d be happy to help,” Steve said resolutely, walking into the kitchen.

“Of course you would,” you muttered quietly, glaring angrily at Laura.

“Thanks, Steve. You’re a life saver,” she said, standing on her toes to give Steve a friendly peck on the cheek before she toddled off upstairs to Nathaniel’s nursery. You immediately turned back to the sink, avoiding his gaze.

[Originally posted by littlemisssyreid](https://tmblr.co/ZU_u7q1pPMFLD)

“Do you wanna wash or dry?” he asked conversationally as he took a spot next to you. You thought about it for a moment, gazing down at your ever-so-slightly pruney hands.

“Dry, but we can swap after a little bit,” you said, plastering a smile onto your face as you looked up at him.

He looked at you, lips turned down in a frown for a split second before he coached his face back into calm neutrality. “Sounds good,” he said, swapping places with you as he grabbed the grubby blue sponge from the corner of the sink and began working away at the mountain of dishes.

You’d worked through half of the remaining pile when Steve spoke up.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I’d forgotten he was part of those sketches,” Steve said. You noticed how he avoided saying Bucky’s name, likely thinking it might upset you.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Stevie. They were amazing,” you said genuinely, a real smile appearing on your lips as you looked at him sideways. “I’m alright,” you said bracingly. It wasn’t entirely true, but the shock had mostly worn off.

“Are you sure?” he asked, pausing in the middle of scrubbing a dish to study your face closely.

His concern had you reacting subconsciously, standing on your toes to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m sure,” you said, smiling softly. What you did dawned on you a half second later, but you found you didn’t regret the action. It didn’t feel wrong like you thought it would.

His smile was dazzling, making your own smile grow in return. “If you say so,” he said, passing you the plate he’d just finished rinsing. “Ready to swap?” he asked, holding up his pruney hands, and wiggled his fingers.

You giggled, wrinkling your nose, at his antics. “I’ll swap if you stop waving those in my face,” you said, switching places with him.

“Deal,” he agreed amicably, trading the sponge for the drying rag.

You cleaned for a while in companionable silence until he spoke again.

“Are you still okay with sharing a room with me?” he asked, trepidation clear in his voice.

You let out a single huff of laughter, smiling. “Yeah, Stevie. Of course I am,” you said earnestly.

He stared at you with an intensity that made you want to squirm and it looked like he was about to say something when Sam and Scott entered the house, door banging open, arguing loudly. They were so into it they didn’t even seem to notice you and Steve in the kitchen.

“I better go see what that’s about,” Steve said, grimacing. He looked at you apologetically, but didn’t move from the spot.

You chuckled. He wouldn’t leave you until you told him it was okay. He was such a gentleman. “Go, go. Don’t let them tear apart Clint’s house; he’ll kill them,” you said, waving a hand to shoo him off.

“Sorry. As soon as I sort this out I’ll be back,” he smiled at you, obviously grateful, and leaned down to plant a tender kiss to your forehead. You felt your cheeks heat and turned away to hide your face from him, staring determinedly at the meager pile of dishes that had yet to be cleaned.

“Good luck,” you said, trying hard to keep your voice even. You heard him mumble a thanks as he jogged after the other two men. It sounded as though they’d made it through the house and into the backyard.

* * *

By the time Steve returned you’d finished the dishes and had made yourself a nest of blankets on the couch in the living room. You were flicking through TV shows, grimacing occasionally when certain shows came on.

He spotted you and walked over, gesturing to the empty seat beside you on the couch. “May I?” he asked, small smile on his lips.

You nodded, smiling, and scooted over a bit, pulling the blankets out of the way so he wouldn’t sit on them. Once he was seated, you threw a few of the fuzzy layers over him and resumed your channel surfing.

“Nothing good, huh?” he asked, looking from you to the TV.

“Absolute bull shite,” you replied, groaning as yet another awful show came on. You flicked channels faster than light, not wanting to see any of the Kadashian’s faces for a moment longer. “What were they fighting about?” you asked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Who would win between them in a fight. They were about three minutes away from pulling on their suits and duking it out,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation.

“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

“They’re getting a little stir-crazy. First the van and now the house. They’re not taking being cooped up very well. Not that I blame them… For what it’s worth I don’t think they’d actually do it, but I couldn’t risk that. They aren’t exactly subtle,” he said, grinning wryly at you.

“Yeah, can’t Scott also go… huge?” you asked curiously.

“Yeah, he can. We didn’t know that when we recruited him. It was a bit of a shock,” Steve said, chuckling.

“Just a bit?” you asked, turning back to the TV to continue flicking through channels.

“My perception of the concept of ‘normal’ is a little skewed,” he said, shrugging sheepishly.

You laughed at that, the sound filling the room, making Steve smile, too. “Alright, I’ll give you that one, I suppose,” you said, grinning at him. You flicked to another channel and were about to skip to another, but the movie on the screen caught your attention.

It was a black and white movie. Horses and wagons dominated the background, and a handsome man astride a horse was talking to scruffy-looking men in cowboy hats and tattered clothes. You set the remote down on the coffee table and leaned back slowly. You knew you’d never seen this movie in your life, but somehow you felt like you knew it start to finish.

[Originally posted by oldhollywoodfilms](https://tmblr.co/Z6Po3y26YRKnT)

“ _‘That’s a serious charge. If you’re sure, we’ll call a settler’s meeting in the morning to try ‘em’_ “ you said, quoting the old man in the movie word for word, the dialogue slipping from your lips before you could think about it, matching the actor’s timing exactly. “ _‘You can call a settler’s meeting to bury ‘em,’_ “ you said, quoting the man you now recognized as a young John Wayne in the same fashion.

You looked to turn at Steve in horror, unable to stop yourself from saying the next line. “‘ _I kill my own-_ ‘ Steve what the hell is happening?!” you asked, alarmed. He was wearing a matching mask of shock, looking between you and the TV.

His gaze finally settled on you, recognition and surprise warring with each other in his expression. “The Big Trail,” he said quietly, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

A flood of memories invaded your mind at his words, vision swimming in the onslaught.

“(Y/N)?” Steve said, alarmed, placing a hand on your shoulder. Slowly, the world came back into focus as your mind sifted through the memories.

“This was her favorite movie,” you said quietly. Steve nodded, still tense with concern. “You snuck her out of her house to see it,” you said, fudging the truth. You knew it was Bucky’s idea and Steve had only agreed after he saw how excited you were at the prospect.

Steve seemed to notice how you omitted that part, and nodded. “You saw it four times in the theater and we had to sneak you in each time. Your parents didn’t want you to see it. Said it was too violent,” Steve said, smiling softly at the memory. You ignored the use of “ _we_ ” as best you could.

You snorted, remembering that part. Your heart ached as you remembered Rosie’s parents, but you quickly shoved the thought down. “I liked it because it was a wild adventure so different from my life in New York. It was an escape,” you said, turning back to stare at the screen. Your lips quirked up in a grin as you watched the classic movie play out.

“I know. That’s why I let you drag me to it all four times,” Steve said, smiling at you.

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it, too,” you grinned, nudging him in the side with your elbow.

He chuckled, moving out of the range of your elbow. “Yeah, you’re right. Four times was a little much, though,” he said, smirking.

“Shush, this is the good part,” you said, turning your full attention to the TV.

You felt more than heard his chuckle and you turned and stuck your tongue out at him, causing him to laugh in earnest.

“Oh, shut up, Stevie!” you griped, smacking his chest lightly. You scooted up against him, eyes fixed on the TV, threw some of your blankets over him, and rested your head on his shoulder. He went still while you settled, surprised at your sudden closeness. You plan had worked; you’d shocked him into silence. After a moment he snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer. It was your turn to be surprised, your heart beating hard in your chest, loud enough you were sure he could hear it. You sat there, frozen, eyes glued to screen, a deer caught in the headlights. What should you do? This wasn’t part of your grand Steve-silencing plan.

Your mind raced, pulse picking up speed as you silently panicked.

Then Steve sighed softly, relaxing into the couch, content. As the tension in his body leaked out, so too did yours. You found that you liked sitting like this with Steve. It felt right. Warm. Like home. Before you knew it you’d sunken into his embrace, enjoying both the movie and his company.

It seemed that, like you, he remembered lines from the most dramatic bits of the movie and you took turns quoting the characters. It was a weird sensation. You didn’t know what would happen next, but you could quote the characters as they spoke. You were enjoying yourself, though. You had to hand it to Rosie; She had great taste in movies. You supposed it made sense that you’d enjoy it, too. As much as you tried to deny it, you were nearly the same person as her at your core.

By the time the movie was over, you were mostly asleep, dozing lightly on Steve’s shoulder as the credits for the next movie began rolling.

“Bedtime, sweetheart?” Steve asked quietly, rousing you from your sleep with a gentle kiss on top of your head.

You hummed an affirmative, too groggy to bother using your words. Steve smiled down at you, gathering you and all of your blankets into his lap before he stood, carrying you out of the living room and up the stairs to your shared room.

“You wanna change into your pajamas?” he asked quietly, breath tickling your ear.

You grunted a negative, shaking your head slightly. You cracked one eye open to peer at him through the gloom of the dark room. Even in the low light his gorgeous blue eyes stood out. “Thanks, Stevie. You’re the best,” you mumbled, as he gently set you down on the bed.

“No problem, (Y/N),” he whispered, placing a light kiss on your forehead as he tucked you in.

You couldn’t resist the pull of sleep and passed out moments after he finished fixing your blankets.

* * *

Something hit your bed and you sat up suddenly, sleepy haze rapidly leaving you. You looked around for the source but saw nothing.

A second later, though, a noise came from the floor on the left side of your bed and you jumped as the bed was jostled again. You slowly crept to the side of the bed and peeked over edge, apprehensive.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. It was only Steve. However, your relief was quickly replaced with concern. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he tossed and turned, face screwed up in fear. You hopped off of the bed quickly and knelt next to him, barely dodging a knee to the side.

“Steve, wake up. It’s a nightmare. _Wake up_ ,” you hissed, shaking his shoulders.

He awoke with a start, grabbing your arms so hard you were sure they would bruise. He sat up, pinning you against the bed before his vision finally focused and he released you, alarmed.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” looking at his hands as though they didn’t belong to him.

“It’s okay, Stevie. I’m okay,” you said, reaching up and pulling him into your arms, crushing his head to your chest. “I know you didn’t mean to do it,” you said, planting a kiss on top of his head.

He wrapped his arms around you tentatively, fingers tangling themselves into the soft material of your shirt.

“You had nightmares in the van, too. How often does this happen?” you asked, peering down at him. He buried his head in the crook of your neck in lieu of responding, causing you to worry more. “Stevie?” you asked, concern seeping into your voice.

[Originally posted by littlemisssyreid](https://tmblr.co/ZU_u7q22R1c-4)

He squeezed you gently in his arms, not wanting to tell you and cause you to worry more. You looked down at him, sighing when you realized he wouldn’t tell you willingly.

“Come sleep in the bed with me,” you said quietly.

He pulled back enough to look at you in confusion. “What?” he asked as though you’d just spoken gibberish to him.

“Come sleep in the bed with me,” you repeated. “You didn’t have nightmares when I slept on your lap in the van. I think you’ll sleep better next to me,” you said, trying to sound both confident and comforting.

“I can’t-” he began, but you cut him off.

“Look, Stevie. I don’t have superpowers. I can’t mind control the world government back into sanity, or fight off aliens with super speed. But I can help you, which is better. Please let me help,” you said, small frown forming on your face as you ran a thumb over his cheek.

He stared at you, eyes searching yours, before he nodded. You beamed down at him, releasing him so you could stand. Instead of letting you go he simply stood, dragging you up with him. He set you down on the bed and you scooted over so he’d have room to crawl in next to you. He was so big fitting on the bed was suddenly a tight squeeze. You both burrowed under the blankets, he laid on his side to make himself as small as possible, and you moved away from the edge until you were met with the hard planes of his chest.

You looked up at him, barely making out his features in the gloom. You could see his eyes trained on yours, fondness in his gaze obvious even in the dark. You smiled at him, reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead. He closed his eyes, reveling in the simple touch.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whispered, fingers trailing over his cheek. He opened his eyes and, before you could react, he leaned down and kissed you gently on the lips. It was a chaste, sweet thing, but your heart was beating a hundred miles a second, neck and cheeks heating. You tried to keep your face calm as he pulled back, smiling softly at you.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he whispered, brushing a piece of hair off of your cheek. Unable to look at him for a moment longer for fear of what you might do, you turned away from him. A moment later one of his arms wrapped itself around your waist and reeled you into his chest. You smiled, resting your head on the bicep of his other arm as his legs moved up, spooning you. You should have been alarmed at how normal it felt to lay there like that with him, but you were so tired and happy that you didn’t question it, once again drifting off to sleep.

[Originally posted by kissing-pleasure](https://tmblr.co/ZEzcWl2OuZv2f)

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the debacle with Scott, Steve accompanies you to the store, instead. After, he takes you to a fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, fluff

[Originally posted by marveltho](https://tmblr.co/ZUEoHs22OUDll)

“This is a terrible idea,” you hissed.

Steve glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze snapped back to smile at a woman exiting the store. He gave her a polite nod and half smile then reached for your hand. She passed by without recognizing him, which was a feat in and of itself. It was shocking how many people couldn’t see the great Captain America past a pair of thick rimmed glasses and baseball cap. His fingers wove with yours and he gave you a comforting squeeze as you stepped through the sliding glass doors of a local grocery store.

“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered as he grabbed a shopping cart.

“And how often do your plans actually work?” you asked, leveling him with a steely gaze.

He thought about it for a moment before he smiled guiltily. “It’s a toss up,” he said jovially, leading you down the closest aisle.

“I still think Scott should have come with me. He isn’t as recognizable so this isn’t as-” an older man turned down the aisle and you bit your words off, suddenly pursuing the shelves so scrupulously it was definitely suspicious. Steve chuckled, grabbed a box of cereal, and threw it into the cart. When the man had safely turned the aisle Steve turned to give you a reassuring smile.

“We tried that already, remember? There was screaming over cake?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I meant- He’d be normal sized, not tiny,” you explained, exasperated.

“You do realize he’s a normal guy, right? A great guy, but a completely normal one without his suit? If anything happened you’d only have his questionable hand-to-hand capabilities as backup,” Steve said, eyebrows raised in question.

Your eyebrows knitted together into a glare, which you leveled at Steve. “Fine,” you said grumpily. “This is still a terrible idea, though,” you insisted.

Steve grinned down at you as you continued down the aisle. “Yeah, I heard that the first fifteen times you said it,” he said, pausing to reach above your head and grab a box of granola bars from the shelf. You wrinkled your nose at his selection and grabbed a box of a brand you liked better, tossing it into the cart.

“Just as long as we know I’m not the one to blame when this goes to shit,” you griped, staring up at the aisle signs in search of the next items on Clint’s list.

Steve spotted the right aisle before you did, turning the cart one handed while he pulled you in the right direction.

“Relax, (Y/N). I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, gazing at you fondly.

“Steve, I survived the battle of New York in a coffee shop with two baristas as backup. It’s not me I’m worried about,” you said, exasperated.

Steve looked taken aback. “You never told me- Wait, you were in New York when-”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you glanced around to see if anyone was watching. “One question at a time, Steve,” you said, taking the cart from him. It seemed he was so shocked he’d stopped walking. You were still holding his hand. He was so strong it was like trying to tug an industrial cinder block behind you so you stopped, too.

“You were in New York when the Chitauri invaded?” he asked, alarmed. He realized he was talking a bit loudly because he looked around, wary.

“Yeah, of course. I live… lived there, y’know? I ran a coffee shop. I couldn’t just up and leave. The shop was on shaky ground at the time and I was worried if I left it’d go under. Then… shit hit the fan and I got out as soon as I could… although ‘as soon as I could’ ended up being two years later,” you said, grumbling at the memory of bureaucratic red tape bulllshit.

“Oh,” Steve said simply. You glanced at him and immediately felt guilty; his face was shadowed. He’d done the math and realized that around then was when you met him at D.C… and consequently left just days later, not contacting him for two years… until just a few days ago. He stayed locked away in his head for a moment before he returned to earth. “You said you defended the shop with... two baristas? How did you and two baristas survive a Chitauri invasion?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“A lot of guns, luck, and basic strategy,” you said, grimacing at the memory.

“Tell me more about it when we get back?” he asked, excited.

You frowned, apprehension lining your features. “It’s not my favorite story. One of my baristas, May, didn’t make it through the fight. It was a dark time for me and Dean, her soulmate,” you said, trying hard to black out that part of the memory.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Steve said, contrite. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stop the invasion fast enough to save her,” he said, frowning. You turned to look at him and sighed. He looked like a sad puppy. You threw your arms around him, and he looked down at you, startled.

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re blaming yourself for not being able to save May and so many others. Don’t. Just don’t, Stevie. It’s not your fault. I know how hard you try,” you said, thinking back to when you found him half dead on the bank of the Potomac. He considered your words for a second before he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you gently to his chest. “Half the bastards you save don’t even deserve it,” you grumbled bitterly into his shirt.

He chuckled and leaned back enough to look down at you, smile dancing on his face. You couldn’t help but blush. You were still getting used to seeing Steve in civvies, and the glasses weren’t helping. You were so used to seeing him that you sometimes forgot how attractive he was (though those instances were few and far between). You were surprised to see Steve seemed to be thinking along the same lines about you. His gaze roamed your face, pausing on your lips. He tore his eyes away after a moment, focusing on your eyes, instead, making you smile. It looked like that had taken a lot of effort.

Was his face getting closer to yours? Were you tipping your face up to him or was he leaning down to you? You were definitely getting closer. You were just about to bridge the gap when he stepped back, eyes wide.

“We should probably- Clint’s shopping list-” Steve sputtered, dropping your hand as he grabbed the cart and turned down the next aisle.

“Ah, you’re right,” you mumbled, trailing after him, face hot. Fifteen minutes later you and Steve headed out to Laura’s car, Steve carrying most of the bags by himself. It’d begun to get dark out while you were in the store, the sun was just beginning to set. It was your turn to drive so you happily hopped in the driver’s seat once all of the bags were safely stowed. “We should go back a different way than we came,” Steve said, looking at the GPS app on your new phone that you’d taught him how to use.

You followed Steve’s directions. It’d taken him a while to get used to the tech but he proved himself to be a capable copilot. You’d made it fifteen minutes out of the parking lot when you spotted them. Twinkling lights in the distance. The rapidly darkening sky made them easy to spot and it took you only a second to identify what they were.

[Originally posted by galaxyslime](https://tmblr.co/ZuUdvj2OesY9g)

“It’s a fair,” you murmured as you got closer and closer to the fairgrounds. Traffic was getting heavier and tons of people were crossing the road on foot; Everyone from families with young children, to couples, to groups of seemingly drunken teens and young adults seemed to be attending.

You eyed the tiny ferris wheel and other amusement rides, trying to remember the last time you’d gone to a fair of any kind.

“We could go, you know,” Steve said, smiling knowingly at you.

You whirled around to look at him, then remembered you were driving and snapped your attention back to the road. “No, no. It’s alright. We should get back,” you said, shooting Steve a reassuring smile.

“We’re ahead of schedule. We can stop for a little while,” Steve said, looking around. “There’s parking there,” he said, pointing to an empty spot halfway down the block.

“We have groceries in the ba-”

“There aren’t any perishables. It’ll be fine. Besides, this is our last night in town,” he said, smiling softly at you. Your traitor heart thumped loudly in your chest at the sight.

“Stop giving me that face. It’s not fair,” you said, groaning.

“What face? I’m not making a face,” he said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Oh great, you’re not even aware you’re doing it. That almost makes it worse,” you groaned. “But you’re right. I’ve been a tense mess since we got here and a local fair might be just the remedy I need to unwind a bit,” you said, pulling into the parking spot Steve had pointed out. He grinned at you, happy he’d convinced you to go.

“Where to first?” Steve asked, stepping out of the car.

“Tickets. Rides before food, always,” you said resolutely, remembering all the horror stories you’d heard from your friends who hadn’t been wise enough to eat fair food after they went on rides for the day.

“You have a particular ride in mind?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“The ferris wheel and roller coaster, mostly,” you said, squinting up at the two rides as you spoke. You could just barely make out the coaster cars plummeting down the biggest drop. It seemed like they managed to get a decent coaster at this fair.

“The coaster?” Steve asked, sounding suddenly unsure. You dodged children as you walked to the ticket booth, Steve trailing behind.

You handed a twenty to the lady at the counter and she handed you a small sheet of tickets. You thanked her and turned to Steve, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, the coaster. Is that a problem? I know it’s hot a huge one but-”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, not meeting your gaze.

It was clear from his tone it wasn’t alright.

Suddenly, something clicked. “Steve… are you afraid of roller coasters?” you asked quietly. Something in the back of your head was nagging at you that you were forgetting something.

Steve’s gaze snapped back to yours, eyes a little wider than normal. “Well, no. I wouldn’t say I’m afraid, but-”

“Steve, you jump out of planes. Without a parachute,” you said, deadpan.

“I know that! But something about being strapped into a speeding death trap just makes me-”

“Coney Island,” you said suddenly, interrupting his excuses. The memory hit you like a ton of bricks.

“What?” he asked quietly, though you had a sneaking suspicion he knew what you meant.

“Coney Island. The Cyclone. _He_ … made you ride it with him. You puked. You told me… her… the story. But everything’s fuzzy… I can’t remember everything,” you said, fingers massaging your temples.

He surprised you by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “I’ll tell you the whole story later if you promise to forget about it for now and enjoy the night,” he said, batting his unfairly long eyelashes at you.

“Fine,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

* * *

It was well and truly dark by the time you left the fair. Steve had braved the roller coaster, although he looked sick the entire time up until he actually got into the coaster car. Once he was in, his jaw was set in a hard line, his fingers gripping the safety bar until his knuckles turned white; you were surprised the bar survived, honestly. Once the ride started with a jerky thunk forward, you reached for his closest hand, wrapping your fingers around it. He’d had enough time to look at you, a small smile chasing away the worst of the uneasiness, before the coaster plummeted off of the first drop.

After the roller coaster you rode the ferris wheel. It was only when you made it to the top that you remembered you were petrified of heights. When Steve leaned over the side to look down at the fair below, you let out an undignified squeak, going completely rigid with fear as the gondola swung on its hinges. Steve looked at you, alarmed, but his gaze softened the moment he studied you. “Heights, right?” he’d asked, smiling knowingly. You’d nodded stiffly, not wanting to move any more than necessary for fear of rocking the gondola more. He’d moved closer, looking to comfort you, only to cause it to sway ominously. You’d yelped and lunged to him, jumping on his lap, and shut your eyes tight, clutching him for dear life. He’d held you close and slowly convinced you to open your eyes, promising you that you were safe in his arms. You had to admit, seeing the town and the fair from that high up had been stunning.

When Steve spotted you staring at a particularly cute stuffed animal above one of the carnival games, he’d won it for you easily. He’d knocked over all three milk jugs with all three attempts his five dollars had bought, surprising the attendant at the booth. She’d said you could take home the huge stuffed animal that loomed over the booth, but Steve chose the tiny plush you’d been eyeing earlier and handed it to you, smiling when you beamed at it and thanked him profusely. No one had ever won something for you at a carnival or fair before.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you said, smiling at him as you started walking out of the fair. Rides were starting to shut down and the fairgrounds were getting dark rapidly.

[Originally posted by imagining-in-the-mcu](https://tmblr.co/ZcDqBk21MXqB2)

“I know… But I wanted to,” he said, smiling softly at you as you crushed the stuffed animal to the side of your chest with one arm. Your cheeks grew hot under his gaze. The ride next to you shut off suddenly, plunging the area around you into darkness. You looked around, alarmed, unconsciously reaching for Steve’s hand with your own free hand.

“Let’s get back. The team’s probably wondering where we are by now,” you said, walking faster towards where you parked the car, dragging Steve along behind you.

He pulled you back suddenly, spinning you to face him.

“Play along,” he whispered. You had a half second to wonder at his words before he cupped your face in his hands and his lips crashed against yours. Your mind went blissfully blank as his lips melded to yours and the world fell away around you. You kissed him back eagerly, arms wrapping around his neck. 

A moment later Steve pulled away, panting slightly, eyes glazed over. You followed the movement, leaning forward slightly, not wanting to part from him just yet. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

“All clear,” he said, taking your hand in his, and started walking towards the car again.

“What?” you asked, still dazed.

“Sorry for not giving you more of a warning. There were two policemen patrolling, likely stationed here temporarily to keep fair-goers safe. I had to think quick and, well, I was told once that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” he said sheepishly. “I hope you’re not upset with me,” he said, turning his head to smile down at you.

You shook your head violently as you spoke. “No, no! Of course not, Stevie,” you said a little too quickly.

“I’m glad,” he said, unlocking the car from a few feet away. You felt your pockets, confused. You were supposed to have the keys, not Steve.

“When did you get those? I thought they were in my pocket,” you asked, confused.

“I took them while you were distracted a minute ago,” he said, chuckling as he opened the passenger door for you.

You glared at him as you got in the car. “Who are you and what have you done with Steve,” you said, mock anger coloring your tone.

“He died on that roller coaster. I’m Steve’s evil twin, Fred,” he joked, grinning wickedly for show before he closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. You snorted at his lame joke, grin lighting up your features. He got in and turned the car, deftly maneuvering out of the parking spot, and pulled out onto the main road.

“A joke, huh? I thought you’d forgotten how to make those,” you said, resting your head on your hand, elbow propped up on the armrest.

“Ah, I’m wounded,” he said, grinning. “I happen to have a great sense of humor,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you in challenge.

“I’m pretty sure every funny bone in your body got replaced by justice, freedom, and kickass,” you said, rolling your eyes. Streetlights flashed above you as Steve drove towards the Barton house.

“Hey, I’ve always had the justice and freedom genes,” he said, sounding a little offended.

You snorted. “Does getting beaten up in back alleys by neighborhood bullies really count as being a shining example of American ideals?” you asked, eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah. 100%,” he said matter-of-factly, grinning broadly.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At least you have the kickass gene to back the other two up now.”

“Yeah, that does help a bit,” he said, smiling over at you.

“Come on, wonder boy. We need to get back asap so we can pack for tomorrow,” you said motioning vaguely to the road in front of you.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, throwing you a winning smile as the car picked up speed.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prank leads to Steve and you connecting in a way you never have before.  
> Just after, Steve gets an important call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, mentions of sex, sexual themes

[Originally posted by ghostwritingforyou](https://tmblr.co/ZXlCrg27aNaGr)

**Months Later**

“Come on, Steve. It can’t be that bad,” you told him through the door of the bathroom.

You were in one of the bedrooms of the cozy safe house out in the country that you and the other Avengers had taken residence in. Scott and Clint had set it up through some shady contacts, but it ended up being a pretty nice place. The smaller maintenance issues had been taken care of quickly and the place was now up and running and had actually begun to feel like a home. Scott had taken everyone by surprise with his skills in electrical engineering, taking the house almost completely off the grid. There were even enough bedrooms for everyone, although you and Steve still shared a room.

“I can’t go out like this,” Steve said, sounding distraught.

“Well until Scott fixes the wiring problems with the washer, you’re stuck. You’re lucky he lent you anything at all,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You’re being a drama queen,” you said, turning the doorknob.

“No, wait!” Steve protested as you opened the door. He stood in the center of the small bathroom that was attached to your room, dirty clothes clutched to his chest.

“Steve, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes at him.

“I really can’t wear this, (Y/N),” he insisted, wincing. “I can just wear the same shirt-”

“Steve you worked out in that. It’s disgusting,” you said, glaring at the offending light blue cotton monstrosity. “Let’s go. It’s finally our day off and I’ll drag you out of here if I have to,” you said, pointing your car key threateningly at him.

“Can’t we just stay in or something?” Steve asked, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

You sighed, shoulders slumping, frown on your face. “I really just want to get out of this stupid house for a while, Stevie,” you said, leaning against the door frame. “It can’t be that bad. Please?” you asked, unashamedly batting your eyelashes at him.

He sighed in defeat, small smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but I’m only doing it because I love you so much,” he said, slowly dropping his dirty clothes to the ground. He opened his arms wide as though to put the shirt on full display. You only had a moment to enjoy his words, cheeks heating in happiness, before your mind processed the text on his shirt.

You burst out laughing, choking out the words on his shirt. “’Free Licks’? Who the hell owns a shirt that has ‘free licks’ written on it?” you asked, cackling.

“Scott, apparently,” Steve said, eyes glued to the floor in embarrassment. His cheeks had turned a truly adorable shade of pink, making you smile even wider.

You wiped tears from the corners of your eyes and finally collected yourself, grinning widely at the shirt. “I think I owe Scott a beer for this one,” you said, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Were you in on this?” Steve asked, sounding betrayed.

“I had no idea, but I want to thank him,” you said, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you took a step closer to Steve.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Steve asked, giving you a look that clearly said he was unimpressed.

“Because-” you said, closing the distance between you and him with another step, “-it gives me an excuse to do this,” you said, moving slowly enough for him to pull away if he wanted to. When you rested a hand gently on his bicep to help steady yourself he froze, eyes widening as he followed your movements. Your lips ghosted over his collarbone and up his neck. His scruff scratched your lips, making you smile against his skin. You relished the way he shivered at your touch before you slowly dragged the tip of your tongue back down his neck, nipping softly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. A small gasp escaped his lips and one of his hands came up to grip your arm as though the touch alone would keep him grounded.

You leaned back on the balls of your feet, grinning wickedly up at him. He’d closed his eyes while you weren’t looking, but they cracked open now, his usually bright blue eyes dark with lust.

He seemed to need a moment, collecting his thoughts before he spoke. “I think it means I’m supposed to be the one giving away free licks,” he said huskily, head tilting down until his face was only inches from yours. The intensity in his gaze made you shiver and you bit your lip, suddenly aware of what you’d likely just gotten yourself into.

Your cocky grin faltered for a moment before you replaced it again. “I liked my interpretation, though,” you whispered. He was close enough that you could close the distance between you before he could react, but you waited, wanting to see if he’d make the first move.

“I did, too,” he said, his smile so handsome you felt your heart skip a few beats. His eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips, lingering there a moment before his gaze returned to your eyes. He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you closed your eyes and met him halfway, lips melding together perfectly.

You’d kissed Steve before in your time together; Pecks on the cheek like the ones you gave the others, and sleepy, memory-fogged kisses in the morning before you realized where (or, more accurately, who and when) you were. They weren’t like this kiss.

Steve’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands tangling into your hair messily. One of your hands grabbed his shirt and your other arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss heated up, lips crashing against each other, both of you needing more. Even through your shirt, his fingers left a blazing trail on your skin.

You broke the kiss, panting slightly as you held his gaze. His eyes were dilated with lust, the sight sending a new wave a heat through you. “Wanna stay in today?” you asked, slightly breathless.

“Good plan,” he agreed, just as out of breath. You grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bed, stumbling over some of your various possessions as you went. You let go of his hand to yank your shirt over your head, kick your shoes off, and climb on top of the bed. You turned just in time to enjoy the sight of him taking his shirt off, revealing the broad expanse of muscles underneath.

[Originally posted by sincerelysaraahh](https://tmblr.co/Zj1kBx2KmrAHu)

He dropped his shirt to the ground, forgotten, as he stared at you on the bed, gaze roaming your whole body.

You curled a finger, beckoning him over. “You coming, Soldier?” you asked, grinning wryly.

He grinned sheepishly, ducking his head slightly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, kicking off his shoes before he climbed on the bed, moving until he loomed over you, arms and legs on either side of your body.

He leaned down and kissed you, lips warm and soft. It was a slow, romantic kiss that made your heart flutter in your chest.

He pulled back enough to peer down at you, studying your face closely as he spoke. “Are you sure?” he asked tentatively. You smiled up at him as you cupped his cheek in your hand and stroked it gently with your thumb. You didn’t have to look at his cock straining against the confines of his pants to know it was obvious he wanted to continue.

“I’m sure, Stevie. I want you,” you said, hoping to assuage any doubts he might have. “I think eighty years is enough of a wait, don’t you?” you asked, voice light and teasing.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again, just as deeply as before. “I’d say so,” he whispered, face inches from yours. To your surprise and pleasure, he trailed kisses down your neck, biting gently before soothing your skin with a lick. He worked his way down, pausing long enough to unclasp your bra with surprising ease.

“Done this before?” you asked, smirking down at him.

He turned a lovely shade of red you’d never personally seen him turn before and you raised an eyebrow in question.

“Uh, actually- no,” he said, looking suddenly unsure of himself. He looked away from you, unable to meet your gaze in his embarrassment.

“Hey,” you said quietly, tugging his chin up gently so he’d look at you. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Steve,” you said, genuine smile gracing your lips.

“I just wanna do right by you, sweetheart,” he said quietly, as earnest as you had ever heard him.

“We can take it slow, if you want?” you asked tentatively, smiling up at him.

He shook his head, mischievous smile playing on his lips. “No. Only if you want to.”

“Nope,” you said. You surprised him by grabbing his arms and rolling the both of you until you were on top of him, straddling his waist. “And besides, something tells me you’ll be a quick study,” you said, winking salaciously at him.

* * *

**Four Hours Later**

You were right. He was a quick study, and anything he lacked in experience was made up for in stamina, dexterity, and the intense willingness to learn and make you feel good.

He was sitting against the headboard and you were blissfully passed out next to him on your shared bed, tucked against his side under the fluffy comforter.

He was awake still, not being nearly as tired as you after the hours of your escapades during which you’d traveled around the bedroom and bathroom, fucking on nearly every possible surface.

He smiled down at you, gaze soft as he admired your sleeping form. He brushed a strand of hair out of your face gently and your nose twitched at the movement, but you otherwise didn’t stir. He looked back at his sketch pad, studying the drawing of you critically. He erased a bit here and there, fixing the lines of your face, getting your features just right. He wanted to remember this moment forever; to capture your likeness in graphite, immortalized by his hand.

For a long time, the scratch of pencil on paper was all that could be heard as the day turned to evening, the sun carving lines through your bedroom.

Suddenly, Steve’s phone started vibrating and he quickly snatched it from the bedside table, breathing a sigh of relief when you shuffled a little but only let out a deep sigh and continued snoring softly.

He shimmied out of bed, careful not to disturb you, placing his pencil and drawing pad down on the table as he went.

He pressed the button to accept the call as he pulled on a pair of sweats. “What is it, Sam?” he whispered tersely as he slipped out of the bedroom, giving you one last loving look before he shut the door silently.

“I don’t know why you sound like I just pissed in your coffee, but this is important, Steve,” Sam said, sounding a little offended by Steve’s tone.

Steve sighed. He wasn’t being fair to Sam; he had no idea what he’d interrupted. “Sorry, man. What’s going on?” Steve asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

“We got an encoded message from T’Challa,” Sam said warily, pausing to listen for Steve’s reaction.

He was met with silence.

Steve stood frozen in the middle of pulling a glass out of the cupboard for some water.

T’Challa? Sending him a message? Now? There could only be one thing-

“Bucky,” Steve breathed, putting the glass down gently on the counter, all thoughts of rehydration forgotten.

“Yeah, they’re waking him up. They figured out how to get that Hydra shit out of his head. They sent it to us this morning, but it took Scott and Clint a while to-”

“Send me the details. I’m going. Now,” Steve said, hanging up the call without another word.

Why? Why now? Bucky was so important to him, but (Y/N)… you and Bucky had history, to say the least. Bucky had shattered you, not unlike how you’d shattered him when you’d left him at the hospital all those years ago. You’d finally moved onto the next level of your relationship together and-

He shook his head clear of those dark thoughts and focused on the only two that mattered just then.

Bucky was waking up. And Steve had to get to him.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes to Wakanda to get Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, mentions of torture

[Originally posted by gliceria](https://tmblr.co/Zspawh2GsBwAD)

Steve left a note on the bedside table, on top of his unfinished sketch of you. He left you sleeping. He didn’t want to leave you there like that, but needed to get to Bucky as soon as possible. He wasn’t sure what he’d find when he got there, and wouldn’t risk putting you in harm’s way, even though he knew how much Bucky cared for you. Loved you, even.

He kept telling himself it absolutely wasn’t for other, selfish reasons.

He grabbed a few essentials and, one short car ride to the airport later, was boarding a Wakandan jet.

Whatever tech the Wakandans had developed was more advanced even than SHIELD’s. Maybe even Tony’s. It made the trip from the middle of the U.S. to Wakanda in a couple short hours. On the flight over, he was briefed on the process they’d used to remove the Hydra programming from Bucky’s head, though he didn’t understand most of it.

All too soon the plane landed and then it was only a short journey to the hospital-lab where Bucky was being taken care of.

“Steve Rogers, I’m glad you made it in time to see him wake up,” T’Challa called to him from down the hall, turning his bright smile on the blond man.

“King T’Challa, thank you for giving me a heads up. Thank you again for what you’ve done for him,” Steve said, shaking T’Challa’s offered hand.

“It was my pleasure, Captain. He should be regaining consciousness shortly. Shall we?” he asked, motioning towards the door to Bucky’s observation room.

Steve nodded, entering the room apprehensively. There were a few chairs that faced a giant glass window. On the other side, Bucky laid on a table, motionless, as doctors bustled around him, checking vitals and readings. A few guards were stationed nearby, just in case something unexpected happened with their work and Bucky regressed. Steve took a seat in the front row, closely followed by T’Challa, and a second later the speakers crackled to life, allowing all those present to hear what was going on.

“Sergeant Barnes? Can you hear me?” asked one of the doctors, lifting one of his eyelids to shine a light into it.

Bucky’s arms twitched; it was then that Steve noticed they’d replaced his metal arm with a new, sleeker model. They seemed confident enough with their work on Bucky’s brain to give him a new weapon of mass destruction, so Steve took it as a good sign.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths and, after a moment, his eyes flickered open before squinting against the light.

“Sergeant Barnes?” the nurse asked again, studying him closely.

“I can hear you,” came his raspy voice.

Steve released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, sagging back into his chair with relief. English, not Russian. Emotion. Inflection. He wasn’t the Soldier.

“Can you tell me your full name and your date of birth, please?” she asked, kind smile on her lips.

“James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. I was born March 10th, 1917,” he said evenly.

“Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?” she asked politely.

“Not at all, ma’am,” he said, turning his head to look at her stoically.

“Thank you. Can you tell me where you were for the few months before you entered cryogenic stasis?” she asked, glancing at her clipboard.

“I was in Romania. Bucharest,” he said, simply. “I was hiding from the world.”

 _With (Y/N)_ , Steve added mentally, heart twinging painfully at the thought.

“Where did you grow up?” she asked, scribbling something onto her papers.

“1930′s Brooklyn, New York,” he said, eyes far away.

“Who are the most important people in your life?” she asked nonchalantly.

He didn’t answer immediately, causing her to look up at him. “Is that too personal a question?” she asked kindly.

He shook his head after a moment. “Steve Grant Rogers and (Y/full/N),” he said, voice uneven as he said your name. Steve raised an eyebrow at that, trying to read his friend even though it was difficult to see his face from this angle.

“What unit did you serve in during World War II?” she asked, jotting down a few notes.

“The 107th, originally. I was captured and held a prisoner of war by Hydra, but was eventually freed by Steve Rogers and continued to serve under him in a unit called the Howling Commandos,” Bucky said, eyes darkening when he talked about his time as a prisoner of war.

“Do you remember the time you’ve spent awake in the last 70 years?” she asked quietly, studying Bucky closely.

Bucky didn’t answer verbally, choosing to nod once, tersely, instead.

“With your permission, Sergeant, we’d like to perform one final test; we would read out the words that Hydra used to trigger the Winter Soldier’s mental programming. Is that alright with you?” she asked, voice clinical, but not unkind.

“What? Are you sure? He just woke up and-” Steve asked, turning to T’Challa in shock.

“I would not take this risk if I thought my people hadn’t effectively expunged the Hydra taint from Sergeant Barnes’ brain. It is simply a formality, and a test to see how he is fairing emotionally and mentally,” T’Challa said, eyes never leaving Bucky.

“I’ll do it,” Bucky said, sounding determined. Steve’s gaze whipped back to Bucky, trepidation filling his entire being.

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes,” she said, smiling warmly at him before she followed the rest of the doctors out of the room, leaving Bucky alone with only a few guards.

“Besides, it’s best to do this now so that, in the off chance we failed, he’s too weak to try and kill us all,” T’Challa said, turning to grin mischievously at Steve. Steve didn’t have time to balk at his words. The door to the room shut and suddenly a person speaking Russian filled the speakers.

“желание.” _Longing_. Bucky’s eyes closed tightly shut, his fists clenched at his sides.

“ржaвый.” _Rusted_. Steve gripped the arm rests of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white.

“Семнадцать.” _Seventeen_. Bucky let out a pained groan, teeth snapping shut loud enough for them to hear.

“Рассвет.” _Daybreak_. “Stop. Stop, it’s not working,” Steve said with panic in his voice, standing up from his chair, stepping towards the glass window.

“Печь.” _Furnace_. “No, Captain. This must be done at some point. It should be here, where he and everyone else are safe,” T’Challa said, standing to place a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Девять.” _Nine_. Bucky’s metal fist rose and came crashing back down onto the bed he was on, causing the frame to crunch beneath the pressure and send him rolling off of the bed.

“добросердечный.” _Benign_. Bucky landed on his hands and knees, face hidden by his long dark brown hair. Steve watched, petrified.

“возвращение на родину.” _Homecoming_. The scream that came from Bucky’s lips nearly made Steve crash through the glass and break all of the speakers in the room. His metal fingers dug into the floor, causing a god-awful screeching noise.

“Один.” _One_. This wasn’t going to work- Steve had to stop them. He had to-

“грузовой вагон.” _Freight car_. Bucky’s scream stopped and the silence that followed the last trigger word was deafening. Steve didn’t dare move.

When Bucky didn’t move immediately, the doctor’s voice came over the speakers again. “Soldat?” she asked, voice cold. Authoritative.

“That’s not my damn name,” Bucky croaked. Steve’s legs nearly gave out, wide smile lighting his features.

“What is your name?” she asked, tone cold.

“Bucky Barnes!” he yelled as he lifted his head, eyes defiant.

When she spoke again, her cold tone was replaced by a warm one. “Congratulations, Sergeant Barnes. It seems we’ve successfully removed Hydra’s brainwashing.”

“You may see him now, if you’d like. But please keep in mind he’s still weak from the cryostasis,” T’Challa said, smiling benevolently at Steve.

Steve rushed next door, throwing himself into Bucky’s room. Bucky looked up at his sudden entrance and, for the first time that day, a genuine smile graced his features.

“Hey, punk,” he said weakly, leaning against the wreck that had been his bed.

“Hey, jerk. Finally got your head on straight?” he joked lightly, extending a hand to help Bucky up.

Bucky took it, laughing at Steve’s lame attempt to lighten the mood. “Yeah, I suppose I do. I still remember everything, but…”

“It’s progress,” Steve finished, throwing Bucky’s arm over his shoulder. “Ready to go home?” Steve asked, smiling at his best friend.

Bucky chuckled at that. “I doubt we can just go get an apartment in Brooklyn,” he said wryly.

“We have a hideout out in the countryside. Midwest. We’ve fixed it up pretty nicely. Scott took it completely off the grid,” Steve explained, helping Bucky towards the door.

“We?” Bucky asked, giving Steve a curious look out of the corner of his eye.

“Clint, Scott, Wanda, Sam, Me… and (Y/N),” Steve said, watching Bucky critically out of the corner of his eye.

Bucky froze, making Steve come to a sudden halt, too. “… (Y/N)? (Y/N) is with you? You dragged her into this?” Bucky said incredulously, rounding on Steve.

Steve sighed, cringing internally at Bucky’s word choice. He only knew the half of it. “She can make her own decisions, Buck. She wanted to come with us after… I told her that you were going back into cryo,” Steve said delicately. _Also, she was a sobbing mess and we still can’t say your name around her, so this will be interesting. And by interesting I mean probably awful.  
_

“You should have stopped her. Our lives are too dangerous for civilians,” he said angrily, glaring at Steve.

“You didn’t see her, Buck… she was a mess after you left,” he said sadly, knowing his words would probably hurt Bucky. He’d known why Bucky did what he did, and he’d been hurt, too… just not as much as you.

Bucky’s mouth clamped shut at Steve’s words, eyes flashing with unsaid thoughts. He’d been afraid of that. He’d hoped against hope that you would just… move on. Be happy with Steve and forget about him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“I didn’t- I shouldn’t go back-”

“No, you’re coming back with me. Explain it to her yourself, Bucky,” Steve said kindly but firmly. “You owe her that much.”

Bucky looked like he was going to argue for a minute, but eventually nodded, shoulders sagging in defeat.

“Alright, punk.”

“Jerk.”

 

After getting clearance from a surprisingly large amount of doctors, Steve and Bucky boarded a Wakandan jet and headed back towards the states.

* * *

**Your POV, Some Time After Steve Left**

You blinked sleepily, eyes adjusting to the light in the room. What you noticed first was that it was obviously a lot later in the day. You glanced at the clock and groaned. 4:06 pm.

What you noticed second was that the spot beside you was empty and cold. Steve hadn’t been there for a long time. You bit back the disappointment as you stretched, your muscles aching in the most delicious way. A bright yellow sticky note on top of Steve’s sketch pad caught your attention. You sat up, grabbing it reverently from the bedside table. Even after all these years, Steve was still an amazing artist. You plucked the sticky note from the page with every intent to read it, but the drawing caught your eye.

There, captured with painstaking detail in pencil, was you. It was you as you slept next to him, blanket draped gracefully over your hips, face peaceful. It wasn’t realistic, exactly. You imagined it was how Steve saw you; lips fuller, lashes longer, hair shinier. It was beautiful and you felt your heart swell with love for him. You tore your gaze away from the drawing, cheeks a little warm from embarrassment.

 

> _Hey, sweetheart  
>  _
> 
> _Something came up, but I’ll be back soon_
> 
> _I love you_
> 
> _-Steve_

Such a simple note, but it made your heart flutter in your chest. You’d heard him say it a million times before, especially as Rosie, but after what had just happened between the two of you… those three little words effected you in a way they never had before.

You admired the drawing for a little while longer before you got out of bed and got dressed. You idly hoped that whatever had come up wasn’t too dangerous and that he’d be back soon. It was your turn to make dinner and you settled on a simple pasta dish that everyone enjoyed (even if Sam _did_ whine about the calorie count).

You were in the middle of pulling out the ingredients for the salad when the front door opened. You expected it to be Wanda or Scott who were due back from their shopping trip soon, but it was Steve.

You dropped the lettuce on the table and raced to meet him at the door, smile on your lips. You hadn’t been expecting him back so soon.

“Stevie!” you said excitedly, launching yourself into his arms. He caught you instinctively, bag dropping to the ground beside him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest. You inhaled his scent and it instantly relaxed you.

“(Y/N), there’s-”

You cut him off by pulling him down by his shirt, kissing him passionately, your lips melting together seamlessly. He seemed to forget what he was about to say, losing himself in your kiss. His fingers tangled themselves in your hair and he pulled you even more closely against the hard planes of his chest. The kiss got hotter and your hands planted themselves firmly in his back pockets. He made the most adorable squeak of surprise when you squeezed, making you smile into the kiss.

“What the fuck.”

You and Steve hastily broke apart and Steve stepped aside to reveal the source of the outburst, but you didn’t need him to. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Bucky stood on the porch, just on the other side of the door, looking between you and Steve in numb shock.

“Bucky,” you breathed. Seeing him there made it feel like your heart was being torn apart all over again.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is back and it’s only a matter of time before things explode between the three of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Language, angst, fluff
> 
> Thank you for joining me on this adventure, everyone!

[Originally posted by blogfandomimaginesstuff](https://tmblr.co/ZXG8Jl29xZHKQ)

Bucky looked between you and Steve, shock plain as day on his face.

Steve stared at you, watching you closely, looking for any signs of a breakdown.

He didn’t have to wait long.

What he hadn’t been expecting, however, was the anger… or for it to come from Bucky.

“What the hell, Steve?!” Bucky roared as he grabbed Steve’s shoulder and spun him to face him. “What the hell was that?!” he demanded, gesturing between you and Steve with his other hand.

You watched on in numb shock, brain struggling to process what was happening.

Steve grimaced, eyes glued to the ground. “Bucky, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you but-”

“But what, Steve? You didn’t want to tell me you’re with the girl I love? Again?” Bucky spat. Steve looked up, torn, at Bucky’s words, heart twisting guiltily.

There it was. 90 years of Bucky’s pain laid bare for all to see.

You were so distraught you didn’t catch the second question or its implications. You couldn’t, however, stay quiet anymore.

“You fucking left, Bucky. You lied to me about who you were for months! But I could have forgiven that if you told me the truth yourself! But then you _really_ fucked up. We were happy together, and then you left! You left me! All alone!” you yelled. Both Steve and Bucky had frozen in place at your outburst, heads turning to look at you; both wearing matching looks of hurt, shock, and, in Bucky’s case, guilt.

Bucky dropped his hand from Steve’s shoulder, turning to face you, eyes pleading. “Dollface, I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t risk hurtin’ you. I could have turned at any moment… if I hurt you, I’d never forgive myself. I had to watch you die once and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I had to again, especially if I was the one-” his words died in his throat and he swallowed thickly, eyes swimming with emotion.

“You can’t hate him for leaving to keep you safe, (Y/N)… you did it to me for years,” Steve said quietly. Your gaze snapped to his and just then you could see all the pain and hurt you’d caused him by staying away all those years before you contacted him in Romania.

Bucky looked to Steve, shocked, not expecting that defense of his actions; he knew how hard it must have been for Steve to agree to his selfish demands.

You looked at him with wide, sorrowful eyes. “Steve, I-… It was a mistake. I’m sorry. I just…. I couldn’t…” you looked to your feet, wringing your hands together guiltily.

“What is it, Doll?” Steve asked quietly, taking a step towards you. Bucky’s gaze flicked from you to Steve and back again warily.

When a tear fell from your cheek and plummeted to the ground, they both stepped forward, alarmed.

“Doll?” Bucky murmured worriedly. “Sweetheart?” Steve echoed.

“I couldn’t tell you the truth, Stevie,” you whispered, voice tight.

They both froze, hands outstretched, and glanced at each other, neither one comprehending the weight of your words.

You looked up at the both of them, tears streaming freely down your face as you tried to keep yourself from sobbing. “There were two reasons why I didn’t contact you once I knew you were back, Steve. One was to keep you safe, like I told you,” you choked out.

Steve nodded, expression kind but confused. “I know that, Sweetheart, but-”

“I love you,” you said, cutting across the rest of his question as you stepped forward and placed a messy, desperate kiss to his lips.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the sight, eyes dulling as he looked away. He knew this pain, but oh how it hurt. He’d forgotten the sting. It hurt so much more now that he knew what it felt like to kiss you; hold you; make love to you.

You broke away, eyes locked onto his blue ones. “But I need to tell you the truth,” you murmured, determination in your voice capturing both Steve and Bucky’s attention completely.

Slowly, so slowly, you lifted your hands up in front of you. Ever since you met Steve and Bucky (Grant) in person you were careful to always keep it hidden. For years it caused you nothing but pain and grief. You thought it was just a cruel joke played on you by an uncaring god. But you couldn’t lie anymore. Not to yourself. Not to Steve. Not to Bucky.

The boys looked confused at first but as soon as your fingers ghosted against the ends of the silky ribbon that hid your soul brand, they tensed, apprehensive. You turned your wrist so that the inside was facing them and carefully untied the knot.

The ribbon fluttered to the ground, landing silently at your feet, but all attention was focused on the three letters that were permanently etched into your skin.

There, in neat cursive letters, were the initials “J.B.B.”

Both Steve and Bucky stared at them, reading them over again and again as though they couldn’t believe their eyes.

The three of you stood there, frozen, for what could have been seconds, minutes, hours, or days. You wouldn’t have been able to tell.

It was Bucky who spoke up first.

“But… that’s impossible,” he murmured, not daring to believe his eyes.

“Soulmates don’t change,” Steve agreed, looking from you to the brand and back again in mingled shock and horror.

“But two people having the same soul mate isn’t supposed to be possible, either,” Bucky muttered, looking between you and Steve, a mix of emotions on his features.

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

Steve glanced at Bucky, silent conversation taking place that you could only guess at.

Steve explained. “In your last life. We… Bucky and I… we both had your initials for our soul brand,” Steve said, glancing at his friend guiltily as though it was his own fault fate had dealt Bucky a cruel hand.

You looked between them, hand dropping to your side. “You… what?” you asked, completely dumbfounded.

“You were my soulmate, but I wasn’t yours,” Bucky said quietly, eyes downcast as he recalled the painful memories.

There had to be some mistake. Things like that didn’t happen… but the initials on your wrist made you believe it to be true.

But… what had changed? Why were you born with J.B.B. on your wrist and not S.G.R.?

You sunk to your knees and it was a testament to how shaken the boys were that they didn’t try to catch you. “This is so fucked,” you said quietly, shocked beyond tears. Soulmates were supposed to be amazing, timeless, pure. This was horrible and painful.

Bucky mistook your meaning, heart shattering at your words. You didn’t want him; didn’t want his initials on your wrist. And he didn’t blame you. He was a broken, flawed man who didn’t deserve your love. Steve was better for you in every way. He didn’t even have a wrist with initials anymore; they’d been on his left wrist.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Doll,” he said quietly, picking up his bag that he’d dropped when he’d confronted Steve. “Forget about those letters on your wrist. We all know you’re supposed to be with Stevie. Always have, always will,” he said, forcing a smile to his face, though he couldn’t look you in the eyes. Saying the words hurt worse than any wound he’d ever gotten, but your happiness was more important. “I think I’m going to go into hiding on my own for a while-” he turned to leave, but was stopped by a firm grip on his wrist.

You looked up, riddled with anxiety at the thought at him leaving, but Steve had stopped him for you.

“Put the bag down,” Steve said quietly but firmly.

“Please let me go, Steve. I barely deserved to be around you two when I was a whole man, much less now,” Bucky whispered, not able to look Steve in the eyes.

“Just trust me, jerk,” Steve murmured, eyes pleading. “Give me two minutes and if you still feel the same way by the end of them, you can go. I won’t stop you,” he said sadly but determinedly.

Bucky looked at him then, eyes dull, but nodded after seeing the look in his friend’s eyes. Besides, leaving the two of you was hard enough as it was; he couldn’t deny a request like that from Steve.

He set his bag on the floor and you watched with morbid curiosity.

“Take the jacket off,” Steve said resignedly. When Bucky gave him a confused look, he sighed. “Please.”

Bucky complied, albeit while giving Steve suspicious stares, until he was left only in the white tank top from the hospital.

Once it was off Bucky placed it on top of the bag and shrugged, hands up as if to say _“what next?”_

Steve turned to you, though, extending a hand. “C’mere Doll,” he said quietly.

You were confused, but took his hand anyway. Once you were on your feet, he led you around Bucky until you were at his back. Bucky’s head was turned so that he could see the both of you out of the corner of his eye, but he otherwise remained still.

Steve stopped and looked from Bucky to you expectantly.

You looked from Bucky to Steve, a look of even deeper confusion lining your face. “I don’t…”

Steve sighed, nudging you closer to Bucky, and moved the back of the tank top to the side to reveal more of the skin just beyond the scarring where flesh met metal. Bucky tensed at Steve’s touch, but otherwise remained still

You gave another confused look to Steve and he gave you a pointed look, gesturing towards Bucky’s back with a tilt of his head.

You turned to Bucky, eyes squinting as you studied his back. Steve seemed to think-

Your heart stuttered a beat or two in your chest and you took another step forward until you were right behind Bucky, fingers dancing lightly over his skin. You didn’t see the way he shivered against your touch, shoulders relaxing slightly; you were too busy soaking in the letters just on the edge of the scarred skin.

There, in elegant, loopy writing, were your own initials. Your fingers traced over them fervently and it was enough to get Bucky to turn his head as much as he could to look at you, confusion lining his face.

“What’s-”

“My initials,” you said quietly, awestruck.

“What?” Bucky asked, clearly thinking he’d misheard.

“My initials. My initials are on your back, just at the edge of the scars.”

It wasn’t that surprising you hadn’t seen it before; it nearly blended in with the lines of the scars, small and unsuspecting as it was. Not to mention Bucky normally kept his torso hidden beneath layers of shirts.

Bucky tried to crane his neck to see, but couldn’t.

“How did you know, Steve?” you murmured, staring at the three little letters in awe.

“I saw them today when I was in Wakanda. I didn’t think much of it then… You’ve always been Bucky’s soulmate, but after…” he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.

_After I revealed Bucky’s initials on my brand, he knew he had to say something._

“I… I want to see it,” Bucky said quietly still practically dislocating his neck trying to see you and his soul brand.

You fished your burner phone out of your pocket and snapped a quick picture, handing the phone to him a half second later. He stared at it for a long time, reaching out to touch it reverently it before he realized it was a touch screen. He zoomed in on it, breathing uneven.

Never in his wildest dreams-

“We’re soulmates,” you said quietly, causing Bucky to turn around and look at you, shock clear on his face.

Steve smiled sadly, taking a step away from the two of you.

“You two have a lot to talk about. I’m going to leave you to-”

“No.” you and Bucky said at the same time.

Steve froze mid-step, gaze snapping to the two of you in confusion.

You looked to Bucky and saw the same emotions and thoughts there that you knew were reflected in your own eyes.

“No?” he asked slowly, confusion and apprehension lining his features.

“I’m not letting what happened to me happen to you, punk,” Bucky said as he crossed his arms, stubbornness exuding from every pore.

“We’re going to have a talk. Together,” you insisted, reaching out to grab Steve’s hand. You tugged him towards you and he let himself be dragged. You engulfed him in a hug once he was in range and it wasn’t a surprise to you when you felt Bucky’s strong arms wrap around the both of you. “Because no matter what happens, you’re my boys and I love you both.”

“We love you too, Dollface,” came their replies, both emotional voices muffled as they buried their faces in your hair.

You smiled into their embrace. Yes, everything would be okay as long as you were together.

 

 

##  _**The End** _


End file.
